Tracing Fissures

In my line of work, I have the opportunity to meet a lot of cool people. Some are just SM acquaintances that I follow because they have interesting things to say, but others I will actually get to physically meet, like Rachel and Chris. They are my absolute favorite couple. I love reading their Tweets and Rachel's blog because they give me hope. Their relationship is a shining example of what all marriages should be and what I dream of having, again. When I was in Birmingham last October, we made it a point to meet-up, and I absolutely loved being able to witness love they have for each other.

This week, I was able to connect with a fellow writer, Rebecca, who was kind enough to share some of her work with me. This is often a hazardous situation because you never really know what you are going to get. Most of the time, sadly, writers are not as good as they think they are, and they are looking to me for validation. Not wanting to destroy anyone's dreams, I'll respond with comments like, "Oh, that was nice" or "interesting." But Rebecca is getting her Master's in Writing, so I figured the risk was worth the reward, and it was. What she sent me were these amazing vignettes of Creative Non-Fiction. I was entranced, hanging on each word in anticipation of the next. It left me wanting more and my mind dreaming its deep poet dream.

What Rebecca is great at, like my friend Rob Woerther, is painting her past. I was able to share those moments with her, see them, hear them, smell them, feel them. This is an area that I struggle with. I always write in the now or in dreams of what I want my now to be, but I want to write my past, want to celebrate the parents that helped me become the man that I am today, the friends, the lovers who have left their stamps on my personality.

Heading home from a Valentine's Day Sucks party at Vinnie and Julie's, these words started building. When I got home I jotted down some themes on my phone and then I flushed them out this morning. The title comes from my process. Unlike my dad who is a great Crafter or words, I trace the fissures, meaning where I start I may not end, but rather than fight the words to stay within the lines, ensure the trees are brown trunked and green leaved, I let them be what they are because what I love about my poetry is it is the purest look into my mind.

Tracing Fissures

Memory
Fragmented
More auditory than visual
My father’s lecture tone like verbal Tia Chi
Slow
Calm
Powerful
And with furrowed brow and eyes tracking left
Trying to scrape sounds out of parietal lobe fissures
I am exhausted
I cannot hear his laughter
My mother’s laughter like sunshine breaking through morning fog
The first thing I hear when I think of her
Followed by the way she ends judgment with “well”
Slight pitch elevation towards the end
Spoken ellipses
There is more
She doesn’t say it
The moment left unresolved
Tell me I made a bad decision
Tell me my actions are unhealthy
Tell me I am screwing up my life
Tell me how to be a better person
Just pass the final judgment
Because when I am left to judge myself
I am a murderer
Able to look past any redeeming quality I may have
Find myself in the pit
Deliver blows like Spartacus delivered to the dregs of society as he fought to save her
And I remember the tongues of lost lovers
The way one phrase
With varied inflection
Could mean 4 things
And in the larval stage
The months spent cocooned by sheets
Between interruptions of hot kisses and fingernails in flesh
I would try to learn these tonal differences
Like learning a new dialect
Each one adorning me with a new name
A bitch marking her territory
As if the one my mother had provided for me was not good enough
Sometimes many names
With each one comes a new set of meanings
Sweetie far different than Baby
Sweetie reserved for tender moments like Valentine’s Day morning
When the sacrificial Teddy Bear has been delivered

“Oh, thank you sweetie”

But he is not allowed in bed when aromatics are flickering
Still controlled by a Victorian ideal blurring the lines between love and sex
It is Baby that reaps the benefits of the sacrifice

“Ooh Baby, yeah right there...yes Baby”

Whispered softy with a lobe nibble
As the conversation grows deeper Baby becomes Beast
Then
At the climactic close
With the 3rd $15 Target lamp laying broken bedside
It comes full circle

“Yes Eric!”

“Yes Eric!”

“YES!”

Siren’s Solitude Song

My mind, like most, rests in routine. If there was constant newness it would burnout like a light left on too long. But, it is inspired by those miracle moments when freshness forces it to escape the boundaries that it builds to protect itself.

This morning I had one of those moments. I knew I wanted to write, but desire and ability do not often lie in the same bed. Today they were lovers.

There are a few things that consistently compel my pen, relationships, as you all know, new experiences are another igniter, and weather. I do not know if it is the moon’s pull over my Cancerian soul or just an intimacy I have with nature, but weather often frees me from self-imposed shackles.

I hope you enjoy reading my moment, as much as I enjoyed experiencing it.

Siren’s Solitude Song

And you
came thick
shimmering beneath headlights’ fake sunshine rays
like cubic zirconium sparkling in places where diamonds should live

The sun
distant unseen
dwarfed by your commanding presence
as if Zeus had allowed his oceans to fill the atmosphere

And you
bring nightmares
faceless forms moving about in shadows cast by aging incandescence
their heat and hum produce miracle moments of energy despite deep chill

The shadow
silent stalker
follows close then disappears into daytime darkness
as if it too was frightened by your blinding chrome essence

But you
fell gentle
soft warm wet embrace wrapped around me
like lovers lost to moonlight madness and Siren’s solitude song

And I
swam in silver swirls
danced in daytime darkness
like big kid with tongue trying to taste air
smiled


I am very fortunate to be surrounded by very talented people, so I am going to borrow some photography from my good friend Corey Woodruff, yes the former drummer of Whiskey Daydream and the current drummer of Phat noiZ, ladies keep your panties on...shirts can come off though. Recently Woody did a shoot called Chasing Light in Fog. I think these shots add a nice visual to the poem.

Enjoy...



And one more...



That's all for now...as always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think of the poem.

Top Ten Albums of 2009

To be honest if I did not have this blog, I probably would have never made this list. A friend of mine that knows I Tweet a lot about music asked me if I was doing one. I hadn’t thought about it previously, but decided it would give me something to write about, so I set about compiling my Top 10 Albums of 2009.

#10 Momento Mori – Flyleaf

Flyleaf burst on the scene like the NEW big thing. Their videos were all over the place, and the media was in love with lead singer Lacey Mosey. Then the most tragic thing that can happen in Modern Rock music occurred, people figured out they were Christian. DOH! And much like Jars of Clay they sort of fell off the map. Well 4 years after their first release, they are back! Now, from the moment I heard “All Around Me” I knew they were Christian, and I am shocked and embarrassed for early listeners that no one else seemed to catch on to that, but I have never been opposed to Christian music. I mean, I am a Christian, why would I not listen to Christian music. I am, however, very anti poorly written Christian music (or poorly written music of any kind for that matter), but Flyleaf does it right. Their self-titled release was amazing, and Momento Mori pick-ups where they left off in 2005. It is more contemplative and a bit more rebellious, as if they were snubbing the establishment that snubbed them, but it has all the energy, passion, thick guitars, and amazing vocals that lovers of the first album will appreciate.


#9 Swoon – Silversun Pickups

I am going to be honest, as much as I love to be the person that finds the new band, that has been following them since they were playing small local clubs and doing regional tours, Silversun Pickups was a late find for me, but I am on board now and continually blown away by what I hear. I realize some bands hate comparisons, but for people that are unfamiliar with Silversun Pickups, I would be remiss for not mentioning a distinct similarity to Smashing Pumpkins. I can confidently say if you love the Pumpkins you will love the Pickups. Swoon is a masterpiece, combining thoughtful lyrics with the best dynamics I have heard on an album since Transatlanticism. There is a droning energy that carries through the entire disc, but each song moves in amazing musical directions, pulls when you should be pulled and pets you when your heart has had enough.


#8 The Fray – The Fray

As I was pre-tweeting these albums, posting one per day for the last 10 days, I called this a guilty pleasure. It is unfortunate that the pools I swim in are full of music elitists that scoff at anything that has mass appeal…more unfortunate that I allowed myself to kowtow to them and lost my authenticity. The reality is I LOVE the Fray, and I will not feel guilty for it. Isaac Slade has a very distinct voice which is instantly recognizable; their lyrics are personal yet universal; the music is solid and layered; they create great musical textures, offering harmonies and separation which allows the listener to hear everything in space…frankly, I am not sure why everyone doesn’t love this band.


#7 Brand New Eyes – Paramore

I started listening to Paramore back in 2005, right around the same time that I was turned on to Flyleaf. Actually I got into Paramore because I liked Flyleaf so much. Without a doubt Paramore and Flyleaf are as similar as two bands can be, but I do not fault either one of them. Much like Pearl Jam and STP, sometimes there is this cosmic energy that can have guys in Seattle and San Diego creating music at the same time that seems as if it fell from the same pen, or in this case some Christians in Texas and some teens in Tennessee both deciding it is okay to be fronted by a female and still rock, provided she has an amazing voice, and like Lacey, Hayley William’s voice is extremely powerful and expressive. She lets you know how and what she is feeling in her tone. The main reason Brand New Eyes is #7 and Momento Mori is #10 is because Brand New Eyes is Paramore’s 3rd album. Every signed band gets 2 shots, but that 3rd album…that third album determines if you are going to disintegrate into mythic statements as people remember how good you were (aka STP) or firmly plant yourself on the road to longevity. This album is so solid; I cannot imagine Paramore not being around for a long time.


#6 Strict Joy – Swell Season

What an amazing story, one small independent movie that they thought no one would see, breaks through all the glitz and glitter of big budget Hollywood to touch millions of people that had been begging for something real, something with feeling, something that was honest and pure…Swell Season was born. As longtime frontman of the Frames, Glen Hansard went from relative obscurity to one of the most respected singer/songwriters of our time, and with an album that opens with:



I wanna sit you down and talk
I wanna pull back the veils
And find out what it is I’ve done wrong
I wanna tear these curtains down
I want you to meet me somewhere
Tonight in this old tourist town

It is easy to see why. He is able to say what all of our hearts have wanted to say at some point. I mean who hasn’t felt that they were born to hold you in these arms? If based on lyrics and vocals alone, this would have been #2 for me, but I miss the rawness of the Once Soundtrack. I do not fault Glen or Marketa. They probably had legitimate studio money for the first time in their lives, how do you not get all wrapped up in slick production? But for me it loses a little something.


#5 Songs in the Night – Samantha Crain and the Midnight Shivers

Samantha was one of my serendipitous finds…when you are going to see one band and the opener happens to be as amazing as the headliner. Rarely will I buy an album at a show, for lack of cash on me or just inconvenience of the moment, but when I saw Samantha open for Thao I knew I had to leave with some of her music. Songs in the Night has everything that I am looking for in an album, great lyrics, distinct and resounding vocals, and stripped instrumentation with subtle layers. Although a very clean album, its lack of super shiny production put it just slightly above Strict Joy.


#4 The Fall – Norah Jones

Norah Jones is one of those artists that is so damn good that you want new music from her constantly, like it should just never stop coming. Even though there was only two years between Not too Late and The Fall, it seamed like an eternity. What I loved about the release of this album is they did it with quiet confidence. I just stumbled upon it at Best Buy one day. They knew people that love Norah would find it, and they were right. The Fall is very different from Norah’s previous releases. They are all quintessential Norah, but the others seem to have a Jazz undercurrent. This disc comes off as being a bit more experimental and has a solid bass groove that carries each piece, as opposed to the constant reliance on Norah’s keys.


#3 American Central Dust – Son Volt

Without Son Volt there would have been no Whiskey Daydream. Jay Farrar continues to be one of the most inspiring singer/songwriters and biggest influences on me. He can turn a phrase like few others, and the career he carved out from Uncle Tupelo to Son Volt with solo work in the middle is everything I dream of. American Central Dust is a return to Son Volt’s earlier work, more stripped, sparse, and open, but it still carries the same energy as Okemah and The Search. As far as I am concerned, there isn’t a false move on the disc. The instrumentation is perfect. Jay’s voice continues to be stark and emotive. There is melancholy and hope, introspection and revelation…with each tremolo’d strum and twanged chorus American Central Dust introduces its new listeners to a genre of music that Farrar created and reminds fans why Alt-Country is so powerful and moving.


#2 One Last Century – The Damnwells

I have spent the better part of the year talking up this band. I know I have converted some of you, and many of you have downloaded this album as a result of my posts, but recently my efforts were rewarded when my great friend Rob Woerther proclaimed One Last Century to be a Top 5. I respect Rob more than just about anyone when it comes to songwriting and overall music knowledge, and while we may have divergent opinions on certain artists (he is a Wilco devotee where I took the Son Volt road) we both recognize great songs, and One Last Century is filled with them. I drug my friend Stephanie on a 4 day roadtrip through 6 states just to see this band, and we are heading up to Chicago next week to get in another Damnwells show. They need no pretty adjectives to describe them. The Damnwells are amazing, and you should love them and this album…the end.


#1 One Fast Move or I'm Gone – Jay Farrar & Ben Gibbard

Jay Farrar, Ben Gibbard, and Jack Kerouac, really that is all I am going to say. If you want more go read One Fast Move

It's the Little Things...

It has been a while since I blogged. I commend those that are able to do weekly or daily posts. Apparently, I do not have the time management skills that they have, or I recognize my life, despite being a rockstar (hahaha), is relatively boring: wake-up, workout, work, come home, play music, sleep…repeat. Maybe it is that I lack the ability or desire to make the mundane interesting…maybe I am building a fortress of excuses around me and none of them really matter. What matters is, I haven’t been blogging, but I am now.

Last night was the debut performance for my new band, So Much Closer. I don’t really have any intentions on rehashing the show…there will be picks on Facebook and a YouTube video. At the end of the day, it was a gig something I have been doing since 1996. The fact that it was with a new band that has tons of potential certainly heightened my level of excitement, but as I reflect back, all my mind remembers is what we need to fix. The curse of every musician I believe: our stage volume is out of control…we are using amps to compete with Patrick’s drumming when we should be using the house sound. Unfortunately Swans’s amp cannot keep up with Chris’ and pushing mine to that level causes me to lose the clean tone of the Clara. The one song I didn’t start took off like a jet fueled GTI and lost its natural groove in the process, instead it sounded like a train wreck of beats and big vocals. Other than that there were only slight hiccups where someone lost the 1 or introduced a new chord. All and all, probably 35 minutes of tightness and 5 of what just happened.



What I really wanted to talk about was the venue, odd name that caused more questions than I care to deal with when promoting a show, but the coolest venue I have played in a LONG time, The Library. Now, outside of the Firebird, which we are working on, and a few blues clubs, I am pretty confident that I have played every room in St. Louis, not to mention I have some road time as reference. The Library is not awesome because it has the best sound in the world (although it was stellar) or because the stage is the biggest and newest (it is not).
The Library is awesome because the little things and their staff.

Everybody there seemed equally excited to see the show, like they were there for the show too, like they took a job there not because they needed a job but because they wanted to be around live ORIGINAL music. So many times the employees at music venues make me feel like just another tip, particularly the slicker/prettier venues. Sure they may be rocking the look, exposed tats, a piercing or two, but they do not bleed and sweat for music. From Porsche behind the bar to Todd at the door to Sheri who booked it to Tom (from JTS Audio) running sound, everyone was totally cool.

Now the little stuff, they had a back stage! And, it was organized for bands. You could tell the people working there had done this before. So many venues I have played, the stage is an after thought, even the Old Rock House which is totally amazing and probably has the best stage/sound in town, did not think about load-in and storage. There is nowhere but the stage to put bags, cases, coats, etc. Plus back stage The Library had Fruit and Vegetable trays for us. The only other venue I have played at that did that was The Pageant, just the coolest sentiment. Even though girlfriends of the band probably ate more of it than we did, it showed total appreciation for what we do, and that…that means everything to me.

So what has the Library done by doing this? Earned loyalty, and not just as a musician but as a patron. If I am looking for something to do on a Friday or Saturday, guess where I am going to look first, The Library. When I book a show there, I am going to promote it like Kid Rock promoted shows back in Detroit. When it comes time for me to do a CD release party, guess where I am going to try to book first? The Library is the correct answer. Off Broadway used to be this venue for me when Connie owned it and Jen was behind the bar, but now I cannot even get Steve to return an e-mail…so Library, you got my support, the support of my band, and everybody we brought loved it, so they will be back!

Bad High-School Poetry

It has been kind of a weird week for me. Like most people I have a few different versions of myself, but for the most part Poet/Musician Eric is the Supreme Ruler of me. I have given him that title because there appears to be very little democracy in the decision making process, like Homeowner Eric thinks there are tons of things he could do with tax return money, but he has yet to win that debate, seems every year there is an amp that Poet/Musician Eric must have or he has to go in to the studio or needs a new guitar because there is a tonal gap with the 7 he currently has.

This week was Work Eric’s week. I do not intend to discuss work in this blog for a few reasons, but primarily because Work Eric is quiet possibly the weakest of the Erics. He may be a bit stronger than Homeowner Eric, but still nothing compared to Poet/Musician Eric or Friend Eric or Family Eric; however, his importance is not diminished on the tribal counsel and all versions of Eric are appreciative that his contributions provide them freedom, but he kind of just does what he has to, not really what he wants to. He is driven by a combination of fear and desire to succeed. The deal was he was really busy this week, which caused everybody else to take a break from their normal functions, except Workout Eric, Workout Eric never alters his routine.

Alright now that everyone officially thinks I have lost it, let’s talk songwriting. I had an opportunity to sit down and write yesterday, which is a rarity for me due to the chaos that I keep for a schedule, but Saturday afternoon offered a perfect window to get something accomplished. I had a chord progression I had been toying with for a few weeks and a line that I wanted to work in to a song, just needed the time to tie them together. The line is “Traffic Stopping Stunning” (maybe it is more of a label than a line). It is something I coined while I was in Birmingham on my Southeast Swing tour and saw the most amazingly attractive girl at a show I was playing at Marty’s. So I took that, ensconced it in a warm blanket of shyness, and this is what came out.

I Don’t Know Your Name

(Verse 1)
Silent energy between distant eyes
My mind drafts stories of us tonight

(Verse 2)
I play the rescuer, you the enslaved queen
Destroy armies just to set you free

(Verse 3)
Then you’ll play the flower and I’ll be the bee
Sip from your nectar to quench my need

(Chorus)
You’re traffic stopping stunning
But you don’t even know my name
You’re traffic stopping stunning
But I don’t even know your name

(Verse 4)
Tantric crescendo as we close the gap
I’m staring at you, but you’re looking past

(Verse 5)
Crafted stories escape my mind
Hope blue sky falls to moonlight wine

(Verse 6)
I would have held you 10,000 days
but intense pressure left no words to say

(Chorus)

(Bridge)
All these years of quiet fears
Guess I am still the same
In this hour, I’ve lost my power
Because I don’t know your name

As you can tell, I do not really follow a standard songwriting format Verse/Chorus/Verse/Chorus/Bridge/Chorus, and that is okay. I do not claim to write country or pop, so if I bend the rules so be it. The issue that I have and why I rarely share lyrics is they are never as good as poetry. When I sit down to write a song, rather than to just write, I will innately structure the words to fit the tune. When performed everything seems fine, but on paper, if you are reading the words, they are just not that good. To me, very few song lyrics can hold their own on the page, maybe Waits, Dylan and Morrison, but outside of that they all sound like bad high-school poetry.

I suppose that is really all I have this week. I’ve been very focused on getting everything in place for So Much Closer, getting assistance with Logo creation from Stephanie, launching all necessary pages: Facebook, MySpace, and a FanBridge page so you can join the e-mail list. I also put together an ArtistData account, which I am still learning how to use effectively, and the CafePress site will be up once the logo is complete.
Here is the first draft of the logo:



Lastly we started talking with Abi Robins from Morning Bird Records about joining their collective. There is a lot of potential there to help out the scene and get some much needed support for out of town shows. And that really is it. Hope everyone has a good week...Eric

Days I Will Never Forget [Morgan Page]

I think if you asked the majority of my friends they would say I hate clubs, and I probably wouldn’t deny it, but that is not entirely true. What I dislike is the bullshit that accompanies clubs, the Too Cool Crew that lines outside walls, mean mugging people with puffed pathetic chests, as they tip up dangling bottles of domestic, held loosely between their index finger and thumb...the prostitots putting their pure petals on display for all to ogle at, more interested in being scene than the underground scene...the inevitable chaos of those that cannot control consumption milling about like wayward atoms in super conductor, colliding into each other and disrupting the energy of those that are living for the beat.

Here is what I love about them: dance, sweat induced euphoria, good friends having good times, the pulsation, BPMs that hit so hard they alter the rhythm of your heart, being lost in the moment.

It had been years since I had been to a “club” club, but this Saturday I had the opportunity to see the Grammy Nominated Morgan Page do his thing, and it was VIP all the way. My keeper (this keeper concept came out of an earlier post,I essentially have one good friend from every segment of my life) from High School, Jared, has bucked the system since we were 15, and it is finally paying off for him.



He is managing several extremely successful DJs and making a living at it. Morgan is his client, so Jared got me, and a few of my favorites, on the guest list.

Whitney and Noellen


Allyson


To be honest, the only reason I went there was to see Jared, and I thought it was cool that I could hook some friends up. By the time the night was over, the reason I was glad I was there was it reminded me of how much joy I find in dance, and how much I genuinely enjoy House/Techno/DnB. I mean, I am not going to play it in Saaby on my way to work, but when you want to lose yourself in movement and music, there is nothing better. It really was a great night, mean muggers kept to themselves, prostitos stumbled about, as they do, but the energy in Sol Lounge was infectious and Morgan was pulling our chords like a great Puppet Master. I had the pleasure of dancing with 5 amazing ladies (Allyson, Heidi, Megan, Noellen, and Whitney) and two of my best friends (Jeff and Jared) all night long. Other than playing a show, it really doesn’t get better than that for me.

Bad photo of the crew:


What I look like after 2 plus hours of dancing...ROUGH!!!

Even my shoulder was sweating...that is just wrong!

When I was younger and in the Navy I spent a lot of time at dance clubs. I wrote this piece after dancing ‘til dawn on Oahu.

Waikiki Waltz

Clouds waltz across an opaque sky
Waikiki wipes the sleepies from her eyes
Geisha girls scuffle by in bowed appreciation
Street lamps bloom at the stroke of 8pm
Conversations filled with the purity of summer romance
Jungle beats bounce your feet through its doors
Dancers groove to strobe light amplification
With sweaty confused eyes Puppet Master controls you
Sarah arrives with quarterly refreshments
Halo's appear hovering above angel heads
Manito kissed his child, sent her down on winged cloud
Robotic rhythm drives blood pulsation
Exhaustion slows mind, slows body
Manito's child vanishes, angels follow
Once pure streets now soiled with inebriation
Cool breezes walk tourists to hotels
At dawn Waikiki sleeps

Days I Will Never Forget [the Black Crowes]

There are days in your life that you will remember forever. I was fortunate enough to have 2 this week. The first was an All Access Pass to the Black Crowes at the Pageant. When the Crowes busted on to a thirsty music scene in 1990 with Shake Your Money Maker, I was an instant fan. They were accessible and offered the two qualities I look for most in a band, great vocals and good lyrics. Sadly I lost track of them after Amorica. I tried to search my mind for a reason why I would have let them slip from regular play, but I have no good excuse. I do know I started playing guitar in 1996 and my musical focus shifted quickly to singer/songwriters like Edwin McCain, David Wilcox, Dave Mathews, and Duncan Sheik. Still that is not an acceptable reason. When a friend from work approached me about going to the concert, I jumped at the chance.

The invitation was kind of odd because as we discussed the concert, he kept referencing VIP and getting back stage. Now, I have been a fan of music my whole life, I can still remember seeing Heart and Mister Mister with my mom and the Chicago Blues festivals when my little youth belly was full on hotdogs & funnel cakes and my ears were in love with the soulful sounds of life that were being emitted from the stage, but I have never been back stage (unless I was playing the show, of course). My friend is pretty high up in the company I work for, so I thought maybe that is how he rolled, like maybe he has some corporate pull or something. Honestly I didn’t know and didn’t care, we could have had GA tickets, and I would have been stoked. To see and hear Chris Robinson do his thing was all I needed.

The Monday before the show Tom rolled into my office and started talking about VIP seating and getting on the bus. The bus! Seeing a tour bus is a MAJOR fantasy of mine, not the Black Crowes bus specifically but any tour bus. So many of my dreams are wrapped up in that bus that I just want to see what my life could be like some day. At any rate, I had to get to the bottom of this. How were we getting all the special treatments? So, I asked. His reply, “You jerk…the drummer is my brother. You didn’t know?” No! Tom and I connected through music upon first introduction. He is also in a band and is an amazing, toneful, lead player. Tom’s son is also a skilled guitarist. We spent a lot of time discussing gear, our projects, and his son’s bands, but the topic of his brother never came up.

The concert was amazing. The Black Crowes can throw down with any band, stage presence that would make even the most committed girlfriend question whether or not the Robison brothers count as 1 or 2 on her freebie list. Chris’ voice broke through the thick jam progressions and grounded the audience in the reality that they were witnessing one of the great singers of our time. With the addition of Luther Dickinson on lead, the grooves were intense but well constructed. I never had a sense that they were just noodling. They were always moving the tune somewhere.



And Tom’s brother, Steve, was a monster behind the kit providing nice punctuated beats, and helping things stay in order while giving us some ear candy to appreciate.

As it turned out, I did not get to see the bus, but I did get to watch the show from the wing, meet Steve, Luther, and the keyboardist Adam MacDougall. More than I could ask for from any concert. Tom, if you are reading, thanks!!!


(Sorry for the photo quality, I was shooting with my phone)