Our Trip is Long

Day 13 & 14 —Los Angeles and Ventura

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Our day in Los Angeles began with Stefan, Katie and I taking a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard. We got three cups of coffee, some postcards and were on our way. We picked up Spencer Zahn at the house he had stayed at the prior night and drove over to Woodland Hills to the house of Dorothy Forbes - the mother of my girlfriend Meghan Forbes. We met Jesse, Phoebe, Stefan, Jim Forbes (Meghan’s dad), his girlfriend Mary and Dorothy herself. We sat on her back porch and had a delicious, vegetarian meal. At the end Dorothy busted out her famous homemade ice-cream - strawberry and rocky road. After the cookout we drove to chinatown to play at an art space called Human Resources. It was beautiful. A huge industrial room with white walls and ceiling and a grey floor. We played one of our best sets of tour - our first official show with Spencer. The space was attached to a Vietnamese restaurant so on our way out we got some Pho to go. We forgot our video camera in Upland the night before and needed to make the hour and half drive to get it. We discovered that Pho is perhaps the hardest dish to eat in a fast moving car, so we parked in the parking lot behind the Wire and ate our Vietnamese treats, then drove back to Jim’s house in Agoura Hills for the night. When we arrived he was still awake so we all grabbed something to drink and sat down in his living room. He told us some incredible stories about aviation disasters that he’s covered (he is a journalist, producer and voice over artist). We talked until two or three in the morning and then Gabriel and I put up the Tulsa video before turning in for the night.

—Ian

We slept in today; its our day off. We hung out at Jim’s for awhile before driving up the PCH to Ventura, a town a bit south of Santa Barbara with some amazing beaches and incredible Mexican food. We stopped at a little place called Corrales where I had the freshest burrito I’ve ever tasted. The guy working - Tim - told us that it was his family’s business and that the only way people hear about them was word of mouth. They do not advertise, they simply make a quality product that will get people talking. So if you ever find yourself in Ventura: Go to Corrales! I don’t know if these are all over the East Coast right now but the West Coast has been bombarded by these Subway billboards advertising the release of their new sandwich - turkey, bacon and avocado. The release of this sandwich is in conjunction with the recently-released Green Lantern film. This relation doesn’t really make much sense until you see the image: the plasmic glow of the avocado mush calls to mind the supernatural shimmering of St. Elmo’s fire. For those of you who don’t know about the Green Lantern - I haven’t seen the film, but I do know the comic - his power is that he has a special ring (bestowed upon him by the Guardians of the Universe) that gives him great control over the world around him. The decision to put Turkey and Bacon on a sandwich with Avocado sludge and release it in conjunction with an Hollywood film was made in a boardroom somewhere. I commend Tim and his family for their hard work and dedication - both of which can be tasted in every burrito - and thank them for not placing a billboard every 15 feet. After our burritos we went to the beach to meet the Town Hall guys and Booker’s friend Archie - a bassoonist who recently finished his masters at Cal Arts. By the time we got there some clouds had rolled in and the temperature had dropped a little bit, but it was still beautiful and a dune protected us from the wind. We talked for awhile and played a game of Bocci, then left. We returned to Agoura Hills, met back up with Jim and went to grab a bite to eat. On our way to the Angel Cafe we drove past a Chevron station filled with emergency vehicles and personnel. We looked for a smashed car but didn’t see any. As we got closer we saw a man frantically working to pump the life back into a motionless body lying on the sidewalk. Another body lay nearby, covered from face to toes by a white blanket. This scene passed by us in a matter of seconds. We spent our day eating burritos and sitting on the beach underneath the California sun and ended it with a nice meal with our friend Jim. I don’t know how those two people spent their last day of being alive, but I do know where it ended. I couldn’t help but wonder if they felt any strange or ominous feelings that day, had any looming dreams the night before or if something like that just hits you from out of nowhere. We never found out what the cause of it all was but judging from the bizarre location, looks of the scene and bewildered faces of the police officers and EMT’s it looked like it had been something senseless. The thought that two people’s June 13, 2011 culminated in dying on the sidewalk in front of a Chevron station in Agoura Hills was overwhelming.

—Ian

Day 11 & 12 - San Diego & Upland, California

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Finally, we reach the shores of the West Coast and the Pacific Ocean. We planned this tour over six months with the goal of making it to California and back, but the destination always seemed distant. We arrived at Jesse Kranzler’s house in La Holla, San Diego around 2 p.m. on June 10th. We were greeted at the door by Stefan, Phoebe, and Jesse of Town Hall and Booker Stardrum. It was wonderful to see their faces after a week and a half of driving and meeting mostly strangers in small cities across the southern half of America. We settled at a smorgasbord of bagels, waffles, tomatoes, cheese, fruit, and brownies provided by Bryna, Jesse’s mom. “Thank you so much,” we said after eating. “I love cooking for you guys, and listening to you talk and laugh and create.” Bryna told us a little bit about a book she just published on her own called “Accidental Anarchist” about Jesse’s grandfather who escaped from impending death sentences four different times. With only an hour of daylight left, we arrived at Che Cafe on USD’s campus. It was a small rustic cabin with vegan food and a mural of Che Guevara backdropping the stage. The evening went extremely fast. We played our first show of the tour with drums and bass (Jesse played bass for us). I loved traveling as a trio for a week and a half, but at times it was difficult (for a few shows, Gabriel played keyboard with one hand and drums with the other while singing). It was also exciting to see Town Hall play with a full band and electric instruments. I’ve only seen them play acoustic once at El Beit in Williamsburg.

After we played, I went to a table outside to sell merchandise and was slowly joined by most of the other Relatives and members of Town Hall, and two unexpected Swedish visitors. One guy started ranting about the Relatives t-shirts and how they weren’t as enticing as Town Hall’s because they didn’t have cats on them.This rant turned into a 20 minute advertising and marketing lesson, followed by an hour-long rant about American music and the lack of cigarettes among us. We couldn’t stop laughing at everything they said, which only egged them on to keep entertaining us. After saying our goodbyes to the Swedes, the two bands loaded into two cars, homeward bound (well, Jesse’s house bound) where we hung out and slept for the night. The night was a whirlwind and overwhelming. I can’t believe we’ll be traveling the entire West Coast with eight people. I’m excited to spend time with Town Hall and get to know them better. They’re all extremely funny and interesting people. I can’t wait for the adventures and people we’ll meet in each city.

- Katie

On Saturday morning we woke late and ate a delicious, homemade breakfast of waffles and bagels with Jesse’s mother Bryna before packing up the car and going to the beach in Encinitas. We had swimsuits, towels, bocce and books. It was our first full day in California and the setting could not have been more picturesque. The sun was out and a cool breeze was blowing in from the water. I swam in the Pacific for the first time in almost a year. Jesse and Phoebe got quite a game of Bocce going, Katie was laying on the sand reading The Sound and The Fury and Gabriel was sound asleep next to her - in the end he was awoken by a rogue wave laying some foundation for the incoming tide. Booker, Stefan, Phoebe and I walked down the beach and found a nice rock to sit on. After a couple hours on the beach we drove to Upland to play at a club called The Wire. It was a beautiful drive; first along the coast then inland through the mountains until we arrived on the quaint little strip that is downtown Upland. We drove past the Wire and to our surprise saw a crowd of people standing in front of it. We pulled around back and loaded all our stuff into our designated zone - they had a fancy system of opening these big doors behind the drumset after each show to make it super easy to breakdown. There was this really goofy band that the venue for some reason placed in between us and Town Hall. We tried to explain to them that the two of us had the exact same set up and it would be a hassle for us to take everything off the stage only to put it back on. They didn’t seem to understand and thought we were trying to screw them over so we stuck to the plan. We ended up playing last to a crowd that started out with 30 or so and ended with 5. It is impossible to know what to expect from each one of these shows and very difficult to stay positive and energized if a show doesn’t go well. After the first couple days of tour I remembered that not every show is a good show. I set a very feasible goal in the beginning so that at the end of each night, no matter how poor we played, how few faces were in the audience or how badly the venue screwed us over, I could say to myself, “At least we met our goal.” That goal was to sell (or give away to an enthusiastic individual) at least one LP or EP a night; to inseminate at least one mind in each of these American towns with our music. Up until Upland we had met this goal. Even in Little Rock where four people were in attendance, a young, curly-haired man by the name of Knox bought our record. As we said goodnight to an empty room, I felt down. We played well (its funny, I thought we’d be sick of playing shows by now, but its actually becoming more and more fun to play together) and the sound was great but as I looked out at the faces in The Wire I didn’t see any who seemed interested in ever listening to us again. I knew that nobody was going to buy any music from us and what’s worse; there wasn’t a single candidate that we could bestow our EP upon - an enthusiastic listener, a gifted dancer or a broke lover of the arts. Then something pretty amazing happened. The sound guy - Josh - as he was breaking down mic stands and wrapping cables turned to me and quietly said, “I’d like to buy one of your CD’s.”

****

We couldn’t find a place to sleep in Upland so we drove the hour and a half to Hollywood to sleep on Ashby Arvin’s floor. The downtown sights were overwhelming; sirens, lights, horns, clubs, velvet ropes, VIP’s, Shrek the musical posters. We found a parking garage and walked as quickly as we could to Ashby’s - an insanely nice guy and gracious host. Saving Private Ryan was on TV. We drank some beer then staked our claim on plots of guest room floor. Six of us slept in the bedroom and Gabriel slept on the couch. We woke at 10, walked over some stars - Bing Crosby has two - then we came across an Asian-themed theatre, elaborately dolled up with lights, posters and of course red carpet. That night, June 12th marked a historic occasion: the grand premier of an instant Hollywood classic: Mr. Popper’s Penguins starring Jim Carrey. Looking at the scene, it felt like we were all losing our minds - or at least everybody around us was.

- Ian

Day 10 - Phoenix, Arizona

The drive from Albuquerque to Phoenix was truly a wild one. Sights of tumbleweeds, mesas and freight trains were common occurrences. Despite us being in the high desert, it remained surprisingly cool; about 75 degrees (that day in New York it was 100… and humid…) Crossing the border into Arizona, we could see smoke billowing east, back towards Albuquerque from the wild fire burning maybe 50 miles south of us. We stopped at a Shell to get some coffee. It was in Navajo country. The guy working behind the counter was Navajo with long, straight black hair, a beard and some piercings - a bull ring in his nose and two metal studs on either side of his lower lip. I brought my coffee up and he said, “How’s your day; magical or not magical?” I said, “Excuse me?” and he said, “Magical or not magical? I’m bringing that word back.” “Oh, I see, then yes, magical. How about yours?” “Magical.” There was not a hint of irony or bitterness in his voice, only joviality, curiosity and a touch of boredom. On one wall there were a whole bunch of Navajo trinkets - tomahawks, dreamcatchers, even a papoose made out of some sort of white fox. Gabriel bought a dream catcher.

We passed through Flagstaff and were impressed by its ample supply of pines, mountains and fresh, cool air. The landscape changed drastically in the mere 3 hours between Flagstaff and Phoenix. We pulled into a hot, desert Phoenix peppered with palm trees around 5 o’clock and had an hour to kill before the venue opened. We parked outside the Trunk Space and wandered into a shop right next door. It was some sort of artists co-op filled with trinkets and creations old and new. The woman working was very nice - Lisa - and told us to go to this other co-op sort of establishment called Conspire. There were two boys playing music in front of it. One had bleached blonde hair and a very Aryan face. He had some tattoos and leather straps around his wrists, his friend was next to him with an electric guitar plugged into a little practice amp. They called themselves Forever Famous, “because that’s what we’re going to be.” I don’t like saying mean things about people, but these guys were the worst; disillusioned and the worst. It left a strange taste in all of our mouths.

We went back to the venue and loaded in. We were surprised and happy to see a good turnout, definitely the largest, most appreciative audience since Charlottesville I’d say… Two of my hometown friends - Paul Ferguson and Andrew Dunkleberger - came out (both graduated from ASU and currently live in Phoenix). It was so great to see both of them again and in their own element after so many years apart. We stayed with them and a few of their friends at a friend of theirs house. We fell asleep at 2 and rose at 6 to make the 7 hour drive to San Diego. California. 

Smoke on the horizon from a wildfire on the border of New Mexico and Arizona

Photos by Gabriel Gall

Day 8 & 9 - Albuquerque, New Mexico

I like to think of New York City as some kind of brilliant magnet; sucking wonderful, eclectic people from all backgrounds and corners of the earth down its concrete gullet and into its overpopulated stomach to fester and create together. Over the course of the past four years, I’ve met some of — what I believe to be — the most talented, unique and hardworking young people in this world.

An example of one such person is our dear friend Mr. Ross Edwards - of Father Figures fame. Ross hails from Albuquerque, New Mexico. Gabriel, Katie and I had the privilege of staying with his folks Marta and Terry during our time in Albuquerque. They are incredible people and after spending only two nights with them it was clear to us where Ross gets his diligence, composure and overall awesomeness from. They took us in and treated us like family for two nights, no questions asked. We had a show scheduled in Albuquerque for the night of the 8th but found out on the 5th or 6th that it had been cancelled. We were pretty bummed about this at first but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Instead we had two evenings and a full day of rest, catching up, eating some delicious food and enjoying wonderful company.

Albuquerque is unlike any other town I’ve been to. It has a supernatural quality to it. It’s in the middle of the desert and apparently has an incessant petty theft problem (mostly people stealing things to sell for drug money). Even in the Edwards’ lovely neighborhood we had to completely unload the car and the storage unit before we went to sleep. It was an especially odd time for us to be there because there was one of the worst wild fires in regional history blazing on the New Mexico-Arizona border. The winds were blowing from the southwest so the sky above Albuquerque was thick and hazy and little white specs of ash would collect on the surface of our books as we sat outside.

At one point during the second evening, we stepped out and the mountain that had been visible just a few hours prior had been completely engulfed by the smoke. On the first morning we were there I spilt coffee all over the box of coffee filters; soaking them all. In the afternoon Katie and I went out to buy some new filters. We could not find just a plain and simple grocery store so we ended up at the Walmart. Neither of us had been in a Walmart in a very long time and this one seemed especially titanic. Despite its size, it was surprisingly easy to find the coffee/coffee filter department - good ole’ ease and accessibility!

They had what we needed so we grabbed a box and hustled to the register. There were two women in front of me managing two little kids - presumably a young grandma, a young mom and her two young children; a baby and a toddler. The little girl was happily eating m&m’s out of a plastic tube that she had just received from her grandmother. It was taking a long time for them to get rung up and at one point the grandma turned to the mom and said, “Geez, how much crap did we buy?” They split up the bill, so the grandmother put half of it on her credit card and the mom put half of it on hers, only when the mom went to pay, her credit card was rejected by the machine. She seemed embarrassed. The young grandma (maybe 50 years old) laughingly made some excuse for her daughter as to why her card wouldn’t be working as she pulled her own wallet back out. We woke on the morning of the 9th, had breakfast and coffee with Marta and Terry, then parted ways: they to work and us to Phoenix, Arizona.

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Day 7 - Tulsa, Oklahoma

When I told people we were going to Tulsa, I was met with grimaces and looks of pity, but Tulsa was arguably one of my favorite stops so far. We pulled into Noam Faingold’s quaint neighborhood with houses lining the streets that looked like they were supposed to be in Florida. Noam was standing on his front lawn in a 70s style outfit waving. We piled out of the car into the 100 degree Tulsa air, and all commented on how strange it was to see each other outside of New York City.

After showering and refueling, we headed to downtown Tulsa for our show. It was at a “biker bar” (not Hell’s Angels bikers, but cyclists) called Soundpony. Bikes and old tires hung on the walls; shoes hung from the ceiling. A disco ball swirled the room. Noam played first—he has some really interesting lyrics, many of them dark. I especially liked a song he played about dying at 25—I wish I could remember more of the lyrics. He’d crack jokes in between his songs to lighten the mood. His mom and dad stood toward the front; his mom was drumming along on the wall behind her and beaming at him. I liked Noam’s parents a lot—it’s so interesting to see the mixture of two people’s features manifested in your friend.

After Noam, we played to a good-sized, very attentive crowd. I felt like we were playing in either a planetarium or a snowglobe because of the disco lights. After we played, we met some of Noam’s friends, then took a leisurely drive around downtown Tulsa. There were huge buildings with lots of space between them that allowed you to see how big they really were. There was a gigantic modern Church designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Back to Noam’s and crashed, then woke up early for the ten hour drive to Albuquerque!

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Day 6 - Little Rock, Arkansas

There are towns in the middle of America that make it very difficult for artists and creativity to survive. If you happen to love the arts and find yourself born into one of these cities, you have two options; leave it or try to turn things around. When one thinks of music the first town that comes to mind is not necessarily Little Rock, Arkansas. We pulled into Little Rock on a Sunday afternoon; it felt like a ghost town. All the shops were closed, the streets empty. We were looking for a man who ironically shares a name with a tragic, American folk hero: Casey Jones. Casey Jones refuses to leave Little Rock. He has dug in his heels and will not be swayed by financial troubles, poor attendance or the cops. It is hard for me to see someone with such enthusiasm, energy and a genuine love for the arts trying desperately to open the eyes of a town who seems to not only turn a blind eye to creativity, but actively oppresses it. I don’t know what most of the shows that SHFL (Super Happy Fun Land) set up in Little Rock are like, but I do know that there were four people at ours: some university students who were friends with the other band. I don’t know if Little Rock will ever change but I do think that Casey is doing the right thing: staying true to a selfless course.

- Ian

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Days 4 & 5 - Knoxville & Nashville, Tennessee

Maryville, TN was one of the stops I was most curious about because I knew nothing about the town. We pulled up to Vienna Coffee House at 4:30 pm; the large room was mostly empty of people, but was filled with red, puffy 50s style booths, long wooden tables, and artwork on the walls. While we were loading our equipment inside, two men working on computers started chatting with us about the perks of Maryville—the kind people, the quaint downtown area, the Great Smokey Mountains on the periphery of the town. They weren’t native Tennesseans they said, and, at that, a woman named Mandy popped into the circle saying she was born and raised in Maryville.

The Vienna Coffee House crowd, although very small was one of the most attentive audiences we’ve encountered. Mandy and her friend closed their eyes and nodded their heads with slight smiles on their lips. A high school girl with bright red hair, bright clothes, and a rainbow slinky on her wrist sat in the corner sketching. Every time I looked over at her, she gave a braces-coated smile.

We left with quiche, croissants, and muffins and waved goodbye—onto Knoxville for another show!

We arrived at Preservation Pub in Knoxville with no place to stay for the night. Emily Chalkley answered our pleas on the Internet. As we were playing to a noisy, rowdy room, a young man placed a napkin note on the stage saying Emily contacted him, and that he could accommodate us for the night—signed “Will” with his number. We went on playing, relieved we wouldn’t be sleeping in the car, but still competing against the sounds of catching-up, cheering, and the Bob Dylan birthday that was taking place on Market Square outside the pub. We got off the stage a little disappointed, but our spirits lifted a little when we were presented with a free cheesy artichoke pizza.

As we were loading up the car, we ran into a grey-haired man named Bill who had helped us unload the car earlier that evening. By that time, Gabriel and Bill were like old friends, leaning in close to shoot the breeze and coming up for air when they burst into laughter. Gabriel filmed Bill reciting a poem called “Jericho”—about a town with a liquor store where he would goto ease the pain of losing his wife. I really liked Bill—smart, quick, energetic, personal, very kind. He had warm eyes that made you comfortable right away. I was a little sad to leave him in a rush; our host, Will was calling us to lead us to his house.

Their house was towering with a wrap-around porch and nine boys (all of them either cousins or bandmates). They told us to feel right at home and passed around drinks. We all sat out on the porch enjoying the night. Eventually, we got sleepy, so Ian and I retired to the wrap-around porch with sleeping bags. Gabriel wandered around the perimeter of the house talking on the phone and then went in and joined everyone in the house—playing piano along with Bob Dylan and Rolling Stone records. At least three people came over to our sleeping bags and told us we wouldn’t be comfortable come morning when the sun rose on that side of the porch. But we were content in the cool air where we were able to look at the sky—not something you get to do very often in Brooklyn.

- Katie

I opened my eyes. It was bright and cool. I looked over and saw Katie in her sleeping bag; still asleep. We were on a porch in Knoxville, TN. The heat of the sun woke us at 8:30. We tip-toed through the house, creeping passed sleeping bodies still in their clothes from the night before - some on floors, some on couches and a few lucky ones in beds. We poked our heads in several bedrooms before we found the one that Gabriel was sleeping in - he had somehow landed a queen size bed of his very own. We woke him, got in the car and drove downtown. We stopped by Cruze’s biscuit truck (Nick of Spirit Family Reunion raved about their biscuits) for some breakfast. Then walked over to WDVX to play on their “Blue Plate Special”. It was right in downtown Knoxville and was recorded in front of a live studio audience! The guy running sound - Nick - was very honest and a little gruff but got everything sounding real nice. It was different from the radio show we played in Charlottesville, but just as fun.

After the show we had lunch with a family friend of Katie’s named Dave. It felt so great to have a proper meal with wonderful company so far from home. We got on the road and drove the 3 hours to Nashville. We met Emily Chalkley at Bongo Java, drove by the Parthenon, then drove out to 1572 Old Hillsboro Road: the house I spent ages 1 through 4 in. Things had changed a little since I last saw it 17(?) years ago. The new owners had installed some fancy security gate with a call box, but from far away the house still looked the same and I could see the red barn in the back. I’m told that when we were there, the closest neighbors were half a mile away, but they’ve closed in a bit since… Gabriel took a picture of me in front of the security gate with the house off in the background that I sent to my folks - both of which were happy and surprised to see me there. We got in the car to drive to Emily’s and I found myself thinking pretty heavily - something I don’t do as often as I probably should. I had never really thought much about that house. I don’t really have too many memories from it and the ones I do have, I’m not entirely sure if they belong to me or not. There are so many pivotal stories that every member of my family knows by heart. Like when I awoke in the middle of the night screaming “Fire Lady!” and frantically pointing to a corner of my bedroom. My mother ran in and felt my forehead, I was burning up. I was visited by a woman, engulfed in flames. My fever was not a fever at all but it was merely that my head was hot from being in close proximity to the Fire Lady. I don’t remember any of this. But I have this story, as do my sisters, father and mother. When I saw the house, I saw it as the embodiment of simpler times; at a house in the country with all my family under one roof, rather than spread out all over the globe.

- Ian

Photos by Gabriel Gall & Katie Vogel

Day 3 - Charlottesville, Virginia 06.02.2011

Photos by Gabriel Gall