BACK TO THE ROAD

I've spent the past 6 days in Spokane, Washington, polishing and performing an Andrews Sisters Review for Heritage Funeral Home with my mum & my music mentor, Pamela Brownlee & Leslie Ann Grove respectively. As well as a bevvy of fantasy musicians (fantasy implying that they're almost too good to be true, and i want them to - would be honoured to have them - grace my next album) including Chuck Boris, Brian Flick and Rick Westrick. If you need musicians, these are the guys to call!

And now i'm in the Portland airport waiting for my connecting flight to Denver, which will bring me to my connecting flight to Albuquerque which will connect me back with Jay to continue on our epic tour! Stay tuned for more information...

RARE SCOTT BROWNLEE PERFORMANCE OF "NEVERENDING LOVE"

TORNADO ALLEY

When I was a teenager I had a dream I was about to drive off a cliff when a tornado came out of nowhere, snatched me up, spun me around til I was desperate and crying out to God, then set me down on the grass without a ding. I have a very special respect for tornadoes. Particularly now, after standing on the porch of the Holiday Inn & Suites off of Highway 412, across from an oil refinery just west of Tulsa at 6pm last night.

From Dallas to Wichita there progressed almost a perfectly straight swath of storm on May 24, west of which it was a bright sunny day, east of which it looked like a methane midnight. We stood on the porch with several locals, watching the clouds roil and spin over us, seemingly close enough to touch, feeling the rain get nearer and nearer with each dropping degree & ducking like animals every time lightning busted right over us. “So when do we start heading inside?” we asked. “You’ll hear it,” they replied with a grin. “Sounds like a %@#ing train.”

The folks in Oklahoma have a humblingly practical outlook on life & death during tornado season. If it had been just Jay & myself taking shelter there, we would have been in the basement missing a completely impressive display of mightiness. But the folks we were sharing a lobby and porch with were in uncommonly high spirits, smiling and joking about the ways we could meet our ends, telling us stories of how they’ve “camped in worse than this,” and generally making us feel a lot safer even though we were staring one of the biggest storms either of us had experienced right in the fearful face. We were all pumped with adrenaline of course, but never had to run for the basement of the hotel.

Soon the rain began to fall down (as opposed to sideways), the air lightened and the temperature began to rise again, which is when we heard tornado sirens go off in the city of Tulsa just east of us. The worst of the storm had passed right under our noses.

If they don't delay my flight too much more, I'll soon be in Spokane, WA, drinking tea in my old room. If you're in the area and of the mind, come enjoy our Andrews Sisters review at Heritage Funeral Home in honour of Bob Hope and all veterans: http://www.heritagefunerals.com/fh/calendar/calendar.cfm?&fh_id=11479

JOPLIN, MO

While Joplin was being devastated due south of us, we rocked the Flea Market Bar & Grill in Kasey Moe. While Joplin was being shredded due south of us, we ate some of the finest burgers since the last time i was at In-N-Out. Having arrived at the conclusion that my hormones are made of crazy, i was arrested with no impulse to emote before the show, much to both Jay's and my relief...however, i did have strange and troubling dreams while Joplin fell, due south of us. A little girl, incidentally also named Olivia, sitting at the table nearest the stage area was very receptive of my rendition of "Once Upon A Dream" from Sleeping Beauty. And apparently our booker, Mike-of-the-Dashingest-Mustache-in-Kansas-City, missed his calling as a doctor when his handwritten press release warranted a poster reading "Jay Psaros w/ Olivia Brownleg"...If i ever had a stagename...

It's a point of interest that we probably would have been planning to play last night in Joplin had we not been able to book the Flea Market gig.

We're safe and holed up in a hotel in Pittsburg, Kansas right now, staying just out of the range of the weather. We'll be grabbing some grub shortly and planning our next move towards Oklahoma City. Be prayin' for God's gumption for us.

BREAKDOWN ON MISSING EVENTS (bloggers: Stay atop o’ your blogging...catchup’s a pain in the whatsa):

1: There was a gig in Columbus, Ohio: Bernie’s Distillery, beneath a bagel store in the middle of college town. Basement bar, local underground hangout for all things underground. Shared the evening with Arkansasian anarchist bluegrassers, Cletus Got Shot. Mark the gas-tank bass player is unquestionably cut from the same cloth as my dad (did not tell him so, figgered it’d be a weird thing to say at first meeting).

2: Followed by a gig in Indie (-anapolis, Indiana—may as well get y’all acquainted with the local vernack): Drove through the night post-gig to a campsite just southeast of the city called Whitewater and decided we’d be remiss not to go horseback riding on the morrow. Which we did with a true cowboy named Dave who directly upon seeing us walk up the drive yanked us into an old-time pickin’ session, fed us pizza, and told all his friends (good, good folk) that we’d be coming back in August to play a concert on his stage. We parted company with much reluctance to play in a biker bar in a strip mall in the middle of a fallow corn field in southern Indie, which was a worthwhile experience despite my preshow emotional wallow...I can’t figure why I cry so much before solo gigs, whether it’s because I don’t care enough or because I care far too much. Or because my hormones are made of crazy.

3: And St Louis, MO was the site of our happy hour gig last night at an oyster bar aptly called “The Oyster Bar.” Between the fried alligator and the bread pudding (best durn bread pudding I’ve ever eaten), I got swept up in a conversation with a restaurant equipment peddler named Chris who veritably ordered us to get ourselves over to the City Museum before we left St Louie. So we did the gig (not without the preshow cry and which went over very well despite a 2-mile-long train travelling at 4mph for 20 of the 40 minutes of my set), met up with a coupla friends of Jay’s (le Beouf & le Patrick), and got ourselves to one of the wildest man-made places on the face of the earth, an indoor jungle of welded rebar and steel rods connecting tidbits of American curiosity to achieve something like Rubelle Farms meets Disneyland, times 50, on hallucinogens. Well worth the $15 admission.

All in all it seems that even though my attitude consistently leaves much to be desired when I play by myself, people really enjoy our music and every place we’ve played so far has been enthusiastic about having us back. It mystifies me on my part, but I’m thanksful.

Athens, OH

The Penn Brewery gig was a hoppy gas, it went over very well in spite of a poor attitude on my part induced by existential brooding. I did my set and while Jay played the next, i went for a little walk with my soul across the nearby pedestrian bridge. I find, sometimes, that when i'm Troubled, God sends me a letter. This time it came in the form of graffiti, seemingly tagged by some other distraught musician-type in search of a deeper meaning:

Loose spirit to the wind
in discordant night's glow
emotion collapsing inward
but 8 more songs to go

We pedaled our boat across the northwestern tip of West Virginia to the college town of Athens, OH, infused with hippies and head shops. Our spirits remain undampened by the intermittent spring showers in our campsite, helped by stunningly lush countryside and roadside poetry such as this:

Hidden treasures can be found
In Massey's Valley they abound
made by people or from the land
...[missed this line in passing]...

The scenic drive is worth your while
Hickory Ridge is just a mile.

Our Ohio gig isn't til Tuesday, so til then we'll be exploring the Central Southern of the state, spending time with old college buddies (Steve & Melissa Heffner [stevenheffner.com]), and getting haircuts.

Tour Commencement; May 14; First Mate's Log

As it turns out, 11 straight hours of driving starting at 1am is a real fry...but we only got pulled over once (i was shimmying to "Hey-ya" & strayed a bit too far to the left)! Stopped in Scranton (home of "The Office") for an hour nap & rolled into Pittsburgh round noon where we finally checked into a hotel & slept for another four hours (word to the wise: book your hotels in advance).

Pittsburgh is a real affable city. I have a cold. Get the mashed potatoes at the Brewery. Sending you some of your namesake beer, brother mine.

Incubator 145...and did we mention TOUR?

A very special afternoon went down yesterday at 145 Brooks Street in Brighton...Incubator 145 is a brand new venue dedicated to nurturing brand new work from local talent, especially-but-not-limited-to theatre artists, and elegantly hosted by Boston choreographer Gabrielle Orcha (http://gabrielleorcha.wordpress.com/). I was lucky enough to be invited as the Premier Featured Salon Performer, wherefor i filled the first hour with some songs from ye olde forthcoming "sophomore effort" (maybe to be released in the next 360 days...). Following this performance was a brief period of noshing and networking (who would begrudge a few struggling artists to exchange business cards with one another?), which was followed by some 10-minute Spots for folks who had reserved them, to show off their best and newest work to an exceptionally receptive and willing audience.

Inevitably all my plans for my morning preceding the concert yesterday went awry--BJ's doesn't carry Otter Pops (HUGE disappointment, BJ's--it's a summer staple), and Shaw's only has bouquets of daises in all colors of the rainbow (which actually turned out to be very nice, but i was miffed at the time of purchase). All the same, how extraordinary to sit before a group of professional listeners and share 8-12 short songs about your year and your struggles and dubious victories, to laugh together at how insane women can be, and basically set me up for feeling like this summer's tour is liable to be a huge success.

OOPS...I may not have blogged since the news hit the reels about Jay Psaros' Second National Tour. That's okay: In short, Jay Psaros is embarking on his Second National Tour; and i'm coming! To rhyme, we'll be driving to Spokane via LA, playing gigs along the way, in bars and hotels for tips and pay--do your best to hear us play! Setting terrestrial sail on May 13, arriving in Spokane by June 17, Alaska will be our turf for the month of July, then home by August 26 for a special event at, yes, No Place Special. You can view a comprehensive list of our dates and towns here:

http://jaypsarosmusic.com/calendar/

(I have a calendar on my site, too, but Jay's is easier and more fun to read.)

Blogging is tedious and i have my doubts that anyone has time or patience to spend staring at computer screens when they know i'm just a phonecall away, but i'll be keeping a log here as we traverse a Route 66ish trajectory to the West Coast and back again. For those of you who like to read blogs...I love you, but i don't understand you. But God bless you. And God bless us.

Til next~