Seeing the light through the dark
By Ryan Heinsius
Published on 08/06/2009 in FlagLive, Flagstaff, AZ.

I knew our sojourn was over when I saw the giant, motorized shopping cart cruising haphazardly down an access road paralleling I-40 west of Winslow.
Six fratty-looking guys bobbed up and down on the rough terrain seated on the precariously attached stadium bleachers—there were no helmets being worn, and no apparent driver or even an identifiable steering column on the vehicle that stood about 10 feet off the desert ground. None of us in the van said a thing for several seconds. There was only the pointing of a few index fingers and the nonsensical grunting that comes along with complete disbelief—during these moments, summoning the English language is an impossibility. The road had shown us its final bizarre marvel, at least for this round.

It was just a sign that things had come to their ultimate conclusion of weirdness. And weirdness is what the road is all about. Weirdness becomes normal, and normal itself becomes unusual. This is the I-40 after all, the prototypical highway of strange.

Last Sunday I returned from three weeks on the road with a band. The scene described above represents only a tiny bit of what we experienced as we cruised into various towns, set up, played, tore down, and kept driving to the next destination, only to repeat the process over and over.

We put nearly 5,000 miles on our van, visited nine states, and logged more than 30 hours of raw performing time. We played in some of the most gloriously beautiful music venues in the West, as well as some of the dingiest dives and shady hole-in-the-wall hovels one could imagine. We played to audiences that propelled us forward with their energy, making the band better by hoisting their enthusiasm toward the stage by the boatload. We also had nights when smelling salts were needed to revive the catatonic lingerers who begrudgingly watched the band, nursed a warm beer or whiskey, and slinked away at the end of the night to sleep it all off. Even those nights were ultimately a gift though, as each show, regardless of the circumstances, gave off its own bit of distinctive magic.

In his seminal modernist work “Heart of Darkness,” author Joseph Conrad used a mysterious journey as a metaphor for uncovering the various layers of humanity until, after much strife and toil, an unapologetic, primal core is revealed. I’ve always been fascinated by the symbolism of travel into odd places, and the various complex meanings of venturing beyond one’s normal plane of existence into a more arcane physical location and, most importantly, foreign frame of mind. In “Heart of Darkness” the main character, Marlow, is surrounded by various forms of what he interprets as savagery, but what is totally normal to the native inhabitants of the land. For a band on the road in the year 2009, these types of encroaching oddities still exist. The trick is to be unphased by it all.

Now, I don’t want to overdramatize the travels of a modern rock band, but, minus the cannibals, death and horror of Conrad’s colonial-era travels, being on the road does indeed have many of the same mysteries that might have accompanied a trip down the Congo River in the late 1800s: the hint of danger right around the corner, the surprise of what is waiting at each new destination, the promise of the day that follows to be completely different from the current one. The charm and fascination of the road is addictive and, despite the discomfort and unpredictability of it all, our experience was utterly positive and an incredible lesson in music itself as well as the adaptability of man and aberrant beauty that comes along with experiencing the unknown.

Any journey we undergo strips life down to its barest essentials. And there’s no greater thrill than tossing music into the elemental struggle of travel and constant movement. But to truly get to the heart of humanity, one need not travel to strange and unfamiliar places. Sometimes what we’re seeking isn’t even as far away as Winslow.

Ok, so Flagstaff is a very small town, but we'd like to thank Flag Live! for the shout out in the 2008 Editor's Choice Awards.  Our drummer, Andrew Lauher received the "Best Drummer Badass of 2008" award.  (I told you he was good!)  I was mentioned as the "Best Newcomer."  I have now been in Flag for almost a year and can truly call it home.  I am very grateful for how welcoming this community has been and really hope to be around here for a while.  We'll be giving you our all for a night of dancin' and partyin' at the Orpheum Theater on New Year's Eve.  Please come help us celebrate the passing of another fantastic year!  Peter Horne is flying in from Seattle to join Thom, Ryan, Andrew and myself.  Even our good buddy Tosch from Pool or Pond will be in town from Chicago!!  We couldn't be more excited. 

We'll be posting some amazing photos from our Littleton, CO. show with Peter Mulvey and hopefully getting some brand spankin' new recordings up on this page and on myspace/facebook in mid January.  Perhaps we can get a track or two from the New Year's Orpheum show out as well. 

Thanks for all of your continued support.

Wishing everyone a happy and healthy New Year!

Dave

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Dave-McGraw/7745980831

workin' on it.  Become a "Fan" here.

Thanks.

Greetings good people.  It is 2 am and I am wide awake.  When I was in Jamaica last month I was visiting a children's home and had very high hopes of capturing some of their beauty onto an audio recording.  Lauren had taken hundreds of amazing pictures of these kids in her four months with them and I really wanted to record them singing.  I took my small handheld digital recorder (which no one at any airport security checkpoint had ever seen before) and after having spent several days with the children, pressed the red button to record.  I had gathered a group of 4-5 young girls aging from 9-15 who had enthusiastically agreed to sing Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" with me on the back porch.  The time had come and I was ready.  We sang our hearts out, smiling and laughing through every take.  In my excitement, I forgot about the wind blowing into the microphone and the recording did not come out. However, I did have another chance the next night.  After a heartfelt evening of sharing stories and giving the children their Christmas gifts, we tried again.  This time the entire household of over 15 people (13 children) were gathered around me singing the very same song, "Don't worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright, singin don't worry..."  I couldn't have asked for anything more.  It may have been one of the greatest musical experiences of my life.  Actually, no, it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Period.  Before the kids were off to bed for the night I was able to get the recording on to a CD so that they could hear it.  Again, they gathered and smiled.  Again, the recording did not turn out like we had hoped.  I think there may have been some toe tapping going on that jiggled the cord to the recorder.   Perhaps it was only meant to remain in our memories. 

Four days after leaving the children, one day before leaving Jamaica, I decided to pull out the recorder and set it on the table one last time.  I recorded it once and called it good.  Loud reggae coming from the speakers outside of our room and treefrogs, its all there.  I decided to upload it tonight so that some of you out there may download it (from player at bottom of screen).  It is what it is.  For me, now, it is a reminder of how thankful we should be for everything that we have.  It is a reminder of those who have less than us.  A reminder of how the people that have less somehow manage to rise above...

                                                                                                        and live with more. 

Thank you Jamaica. 

     As many of you already know, our tour ended prematurely and we cancelled our final five shows on the west coast. On the day before Thanksgiving, while visiting Thom’s family for the holidays, Peter received a phone call from his father notifying him that his brother, Chris, had passed away.  Chris (34) and his newlywed, Mandy (31), were in a car accident in Baja, Mexico. Mandy survived and was airlifted to El Paso, Texas. She suffered serious injuries but will fully recover.
     On wednesday night, I drove Peter to Chicago to catch a plane home to Virginia to be with his family. I feel fortunate that we had two separate visits with Chris and Mandy in North Carolina just weeks ago. They were both with us for three of our shows and kindly welcomed us into their home in the hills of western North Carolina. They took us on several amazing hikes amidst the fall colors and we shared a few fun meals together. (you may recall from previous blogs that the entire band borrowed Chris’s clothes for our show requiring a dress code) They are beautiful and positive people. Chris radiated a gentle warmth and had a calm and quiet peace to him that was evident to anyone in his company. I am thankful for my brief, yet very memorable time with him. My thoughts are with Peter and his family and my heart is completely broken for Mandy. Fortunately, we have enormous faith in the human ability to heal. I am leaving tomorrow to fly to DC to attend the funeral and be with Peter’s family and will be returning his guitar to him. Peter will be joining other friends on thursday to play music in honor of his brother.
     We’ve much to be thankful for everyday. Celebrate. Tell someone that you love them. Love deeply. Love today.

Thank you Chris.

-Dave

November 26, 2007
It is a cold but clear morning in the Mile High City. I am sitting in a car in the parking lot of Denver International Airport and have been listening to classical orchestral music on a public radio station for the past hour. I dropped my dad off to catch a plane to Cincinnati and am waiting to pick up my mom’s boss and good family friend, Scott, from his own holiday travels. For the first time in a long while, I am alone and with nothing to do for two hours but sit…and be. Mount Evans, the familiar and most prominent peak on the Front Range, is already covered with snow. The moon is waning in the western sky and moments away from falling behind the Rockies, and I am home. It is almost 9 am and I think I am now also…awake, awake from a 60 day journey that ended just one day ago. 13,000 miles and 30 states later, the tour has ended. As anyone that has traveled could attest, the mind can have a difficult time keeping up with the body when sleeping and waking in different locales night after night, day after day. This being said, however, the reverse can be equally true. The mind will occasionally play a mean game of leap frog leaving the body wanting nothing more to do with, in this case, traveling. My goal is to now have the two make up, get along, and rekindle their love for one another. Ahh, balance…


(Afterthought)…who am I kidding? I’ll travel more miles in December alone than the entire fall tour…details on that to come… Balance Schmalance…

November 12, 2007
Miles driven: 11, 361
Days on tour: 47
Shows played: 25
States driven through: 20
Couches slept on: 11
Floors slept on: 21
Cups of coffee consumed: 329
Number of motel fire alarms that have gone off at midnight: 1
Number of 7-11 Taquitos consumed: 6
Number of times car top carrier has blown off: 1
Number of blogs Dave has written: 10
Number of blogs Thom has written: 1.25
Number of blogs Jordan has written: 1
Number of blogs Peter has written: 0
Most expensive gas price: $3.34 (somewhere in the North)
Least expensive gas price: $2.54 (somewhere in the South)
Number of Dairy Queen Blizzards consumed: 16
Number of women that Floyd has kissed: 65
Number of women that have fallen in love with Floyd: countless
Highest Temperature: 91 degrees (Austin, TX)
Lowest Temperature: 23 degrees (New Paltz, NY)
Number of times we have actually used our Coleman stove: 1
Reasons why you shouldn't drink Starbuck's coffee: too many
Number of encores played: 8
Hours of "Big 80's" satellite radio station listened to: almost 100
Number of days remaning on tour: 19

November 10th, 2007
Hip grocery store gig in Raleigh, North Carolina. Taking shots of…flu vaccinations after the show…from my cousin. Reuniting with childhood friends. Beauty. Owls calling in the morning fog. 3 hours of sleep before waking at 5am to drive to Knoxville, Tennessee to play at a tailgating party before a Univ of TN homecoming football game. RVs. Orange. Hot dogs. Southern accents. Peter singing “Rocky Top.” Country Club gig in Cashiers, NC. Dress Codes. Borrowing clothes from Peter’s brother to dress up to code. Dear old ladies. Kelly from Dahlonega. Blackstone, Virginia with my very welcoming relatives. Aunt Kathy’s homemade potato salad. Apple Quorn liqueur with my cousin Billy. Albino deer heads on the wall. A Macaw parrot large enough to eat Thom's dog. Putting our feet in the Atlantic Ocean at Virginia Beach. A pub tour of colonial Williamsburg with Peter’s good friend Heidi. Cracker the deaf albino cat. Seafood with Chip. Getting road weary. A corporate office building lunch time set. 2000 Corporate Ridge. Shiny glass elevators. Fever. A fun show at Alexandria, VA’s newest art gallery, Art Whino. My first grade teacher surprising me at the show. Whoa. Live music is better David Christ Superstar. Heading northeast. Toll roads. Bad Starbucks coffee. Crossing into New Jersey. I knew it was just a matter of time but I didn’t know it would be so beautiful. Still kickin’ ass folks. Thanks for the continued support. Ithaca here we come.
-Dave

     Nov 2nd, 2007 - Greetings from northern Virginia.  I’m writing another backseat blog from the interstate, this time en route to Raleigh, North Carolina.  We have survived over 5 weeks on the road thus far, and are now over half way through our journey.  I’d first like to congratulate Thom and Kristen for completing their first marathon this past weekend in DC!  Mucho respect to you both.  We spent the last week with Peter’s parents in Alexandria, VA, and were spoiled so rotten that we hardly made it out of there.  Thank you for everything, Martha and Don!  We played our first show in DC last night at a place called the Grog and Tankard.  We were initially a bit apprehensive about the venue as we had heard mixed reviews, but we were pleasantly surprised.  The Grog is the oldest and longest running music club in DC (having opened its doors in 1964), and the staff was extremely friendly.  Word of the week: Grog. 
     After the show we made a quick stop at a packed little pub in Georgetown, and it really struck me just where in the world we were.  Sure, we had passed the Washington Monument, the Pentagon, and the Jefferson Memorial several times this week, but it wasn’t until entering Mr. Smith’s Friendly Bar that I fully understood that we were indeed in a very different place: our nation’s capital.  It has been a very long time since I was in a place with so many collared shirts and suits, and for me, it was almost a tourist attraction in itself.  I honestly can’t remember that last time I wore a tie.  Mid 90’s maybe?  And six dollars for a beer?  What?  At least they let us in with our Chacos on.  We have now made it from coast to coast, and the overwhelming realization is this: we live in a big-ass country.  While I am still extremely fearful of the rampant corporatization that is turning nearly every town in America toward a monoculture of chain stores and strip malls, I do have a renewed hope in people.  Our country’s own diversity is perhaps our greatest asset, and through these travels I can feel my own mind opening every day.  Mission accomplished.  Tour successful.  My final conclusion for the day: there are a lot of very nice people out there.

Raleigh or bust…

-Dave

A painfully romantic old farmstead from the 1800’s outside of Canton, Mississippi with Peter’s wonderful relatives. A “Party Pig” of Orange-Coriander beer. Coffee shop show in Jackson. BBQ Tempeh Sloppy Joe. The departure of our fourth band member and favorite person, Jordan Watson to Seattle. Pecans that make my mouth swell and my throat numb. Panic. Staying with my brother and his delightful family outside of Atlanta. Guitar Hero video game. Playing music for my nephew’s 2nd grade class. An elementary school cafeteria. Chocolate milk. Watching my niece ride a horse named Kit-Kat. Dinner with my dad at the first Thai restaurant in Atlanta. Incredibly cool folks from Dahlonega, GA that came down for our Atlanta show. Crossing the GA/NC state line as the sun rose through the foggy hills. Candy land colors as the trees lose their leaves. Missing Jordan Watson. Drunken college kids in North Carolina dancing to every song we play. Drunken college kids repeatedly falling into our music equipment during a show. Missing Jordan Watson’s sense of humor. Our sound system coincidentally no longer working. Sleeping outside under the full moon at Peter’s brother’s house with Floyd the wonder dog by my side. Pondering what it must be like for a dog from the desert to experience acorns constantly falling from the sky. Thom running his first marathon in Washington D.C. at this very moment. Thinking about Jamaica.

-Dave