Los Angeles

There is nothing like the rush of playing a good show.  From that first moment when things start coming together, to that moment when you realize that the audience is actually on your side.  For me, that's our LA show.  I actually think that as a band, we're getting good at playing big/important shows.  The surreal ones where you can't quite believe the people who are showing up – the industry folks, the connected ones, the famous ones, etc.  Its those shows where it actually feels that we're making slow, steady progress.  It also feels really strange.  It helps that we've been playing so many shows at at this for a bit – because otherwise my sense of "self" would probably be thoroughly skewed, or at least well on its way.

We talk a lot about how at this point in our career, we get booked into two types of shows – we're either "art" or "entertainment".  Our Halloween show was "entertainment" – the loud, raucous, party shows.  Where the goal isn't to get people to do anything other than have fun.  The "art" shows are where we get to do what we do – to put on something people want to listen to.  Obviously, with something as visceral as rock music, the ideal show is a mixture of both.  But the show at Spaceland in LA is our first "art" show of the tour.

We've got our manager Kyle along for the next few days.  He's absolutely fantastic at his job, and also just a fun person to be around.  One of my favorite things about our team – our label, our PR people, and so on – is that they're just a great group of people.  I'd want to hang out with them even if we weren't all working together.  I realize that its not considered very cool to like your label…but we do.

San Diego, CA Nov. 2 – 4

One show in San Diego, but the rest is…relaxation.  Our friend and photographer Sarah lives in Del Mar, about a block from the beach.  So we wander out to the beach in the middle of the night, and the fog.  And again in the morning.  And again after the show.

Considering that we're used to playing 7 nights a week, being on the west coast and having time to relax seems positively decadent.

November 1, 2009 – Sedona, AZ

One of the new things (for us) about this current tour is that we actually have a few nights off – Sedona, AZ being one of them. We end up at our new friends April and Jake's house…after a full day of driving, we pull up in beautiful Sedona, tired and exhausted and hungry in the dark – to light. To a beautiful house in the mountains with a campfire and a grill and wine and food. And so we get out our guitars and pass them around the fire, everyone taking their turn. Playing songs we know, songs we barely know, songs we don't know at all.

And that moment, that connection, is restorative – to find that despite everything this year, the good and the bad, the countless hours and the argument, we still love playing music. We love playing it, we love knowing it, we love talking about it, we love listening to other people play is - we love to be a whatever small part we in this art.

Halloween in Santa Fe

Standing by the graveside of Billy the Kid, in Fort Sumner, New Mexico. "He Died As He Lived", carved into the marble. That's about all we can ask for, in the end. So I toss a quarter to the grave…for luck, or inspiration, or maybe just because it seems like the thing to do. And then we drive on across the sun-blasted plains.

Halloween in Santa Fe – we came up with the idea of being…a 1950s band dressed up as classic monsters. So – matching black shoes and pants, white shirts. Jesse as the wolfman, me as the mummy, Robby as Dracula, Colin as Frankenstein, and Justin as a classic Halloween witch. It is definitely difficult to play music with about 25 strips of cloth tied around your head. Also difficult to breathe. Drinking is tough, but I managed somehow.

It was surreal for me, playing a big show, dressed up, in a town where we don't really know anyone. And then a KISS cover band plays after us…which is cool. I never was all that into Halloween as a kid, or even as an adult – it was usually a party I skipped or ignored. But it was fun to play.

Halloween is such a strange and interesting holiday. One night, where people basically confront their own fears, desires…the extremes of the human psyche. All wrapped up in one bacchanalian celebration. I realize that most people probably view it as "get dressed up and drink a lot" – but getting to watch it from the outside (ie not knowing anyone around me), I felt like I saw it from a slightly different perspective. But it could have just been the cloth strips around my head.

Lubbock, TX

The green of East Texas gives way to the massive urban sprawl of Dallas. And then, as the frontage roads filled with chain stores and gas stations fade away, the world seems to open up. There is no place I've ever been that seems so vast and beautiful. No matter how many times we've driven through it, the easy banter always gives way to a profound quiet, each of us in our own world under the epic sky. Between the storms of yesterday and the landscape today, we are constantly reminded how small we are compared to nature – and how in the face of that we struggle and strive to somehow create something larger than ourselves.

The joy of having low expectations:

-finding out that what you thought was the stage is actually not…and that there's a nice backroom with a good stage/system/lights.
-finding out that the local opener is actually really good.
-playing with the band Warpaint…who are fantastic.
-having a great show of our own, despite having never been to Lubbock before.

Shreveport, LA - 10/29/09

We're in Shreveport, LA. Its raining. In fact, its been raining all day, ever since we got there. We limped the van in the night before with a bad wheel bearing, and we're sitting, waiting, watching the rain. Despite it pouring the entire day – massive thunderstorms and downpours, the promoter is still excited about the show.

Finally, the van is fixed, we load in in the pouring rain. And then, calmly, the door person says "is everything of value out of your van?". "Is this a bad neighborhood?" we ask. "No", he says…"there's a tornado about a mile away, headed this way."

We immediately spring into action, taking everything of value out (for me: copy of Don Quixote and my GPS). Then we realize that maybe we should move the van. We stash it in an alley, and then head in to wait out the storm.

The tornados eventually pass by (none near enough to do any damage to us). But the storms never stop – hours go by, and we're still waiting to see if we're going to play. The venue is an old department store, so the giant empty spaces dripping water just seem creepy.

After an eternity of waiting, we realize that we might be the only people dumb enough to venture out in the midst of tornados. So…we play. We take our gear off the stage, and set up for an acoustic set near the bar for the 10 people or so there. Amidst the puddles and the thunder, we play.

We load out in the drenching rain, and head back, and off to sleep.

Session Work, Day One

One of the advantages of playing a strange instrument (pedal steel) is that I get to do a bunch of session work. For those of you who don't know, session work involves someone giving you money to learn their songs and play on their record. Or, if they're your friends, usually just giving you a "thanks for coming by". But much differently than with my own band - where I can fight tooth and nail for an idea I love - even though I'm usually writing the parts, they're not "mine." Its a situation where you basically do as you're told, for better and for worse.

I started a session yesterday - it was supposed to be cut and dry. The guy gave me the demos of the songs, chord charts, and we talked through them. So I went away and hid in my little cave and worked out parts for the songs. Easy enough.

Of course, by the time I actually arrived at the studio, things had gone differently. The songs I'd learned were mostly by the wayside, jettisoned for new songs with entirely new arrangements. Its a terrifying situation - its like writing a speech, and then, upon taking the podium, discovering that you're supposed to improvise a new one. While someone else is paying for the time you're there.

But that's my job, right?

So onward we go - and gradually, things start to come together. The parts that I originally had become "concepts" for me to steal ideas from, and with the help of the songwriter and the engineer, new parts gradually and slowly emerge, and everyone seems to be pleased with them. And by the end of a few hours, lo and behold, we've actually got a few songs, and I've got a few new ideas to try out tonight.