Dan Levy handed that stuff to the Spins mailing list. Chris’ thoughts on the tour so far.
Thanks for sharing, Dan. Thanks for writing, Chris 🙂
April 24th, 2002
– dear diary
shout out to tim diaz who won best singer guitar player in detroit. he was with robert
bradley but now he’s doing his own thing because he’s just too talented to be a sideman although he’d never say it that way. he’s way too modest. look for him. he’s on the way.
shout out to al, the cabbie. good call on the grub. i bet that witchy woman is still holding the clark.
i havn’t the slightest idea where i am. it’s nine in the morning and i just rolled out of my bunk into a truckstop, we left ann arbor, michigan at two in the anti meridian and “alabama” allan thrasher has been driving all night so…you do the math and tell me.
powdered grits and over-uneasy eggs, bacon and rye toast, the squat and unfriendly lady in the restaurant had a long, long braid and one of those hats that has no tops – just a visor. there’s a melancholy to the road even when you’re having the time of your life. there’s always someone to miss. the road is like a whispering presence that gets into the back of your head and reminds you that many things you love are getting farther away.
the music however, is also a presence. she is thirty feet tall and angry-joyous, sweetly-hungry, stomping like a giant. she kisses the stars and then eats tokyo. she’s here with me now, hand-a-shoulder, waiting, waiting through the day for that sweet two hours that come when the clock gets around to saying, “go.”
clifton park, new york, april 25th, 2002
gray and the king of spain
shout out to wolf and ellen who had us on their show this morning, w.p.y.x. 106.5, yeah.
the sullen rain descends on clifton park like a patina on a ’49 mercury pickup truck. the downtrodden greens of the new leaves seem to weep for the memory of a gladder afternoon. the wait is on. sometime in the later the music waits silent and the rain, rain, rain, keeps time on the newborn grass, drives inward the strolling thoughts and delivers delicious reverie to the confined, like a cheap print of sunshine on a hotel wall.
it’s great to be together. eric, aaron and mark, hilarious, talkative, musical remembering a gig gone wrong, an amazing meal, a long, long, long, long drive from one nowhere to another, a machine that broke or a person that broke. it’s, “what happened to?” and “has anybody heard from?” setlists and sound checks, tunes we ought to … and howabouts, the music is along for the ride and we are her subjects.
meanwhile, the rain, rain, rain falls on the parking lots of clifton park and i think
about wine for the king of spain.
april 27th, 2002 poughkeepsie, n.y.
the spires of poughkeepsie
shout out to sugar ray for being so cool to us, bringing me on stage for their last song and of course, rocking the house.
two crows glide past the spires of poughkeepsie. the wispy sky reclines behind the awakened trees. a sleepy day at the grand hotel, telivision watching, eyelid gazing, shower and an old diner.
last night the music was a godzilla. rampaging across the stage like a dinosaur shark fighting piranha in a rusty tank. we grinned at each other and the music raised us to the heavens in her white hot hand. every note a risk, teeth in a tigers head, carnivorous, relentless, gentle then vicious.
now for the grinding hours until we play tonight.
