Thanks to all the folks at The Cave for a lovely show and to Fontana for playing a great opening set. Really enjoyed Witchita Lineman, which Anthony occasional sings (slowly and in an ungodly eerie, deep baritone) during breaks at Lud rehearsal.
You know I need a small vacaaaaashunnnn.
It was also wonderful to see Pelosi, Laird and all our Pancho Holly comrades. That is some real old-school support. We closed with “Tribute to German Jam Bands of the Late 1960s and Early 1970s” and, like last time, Lee went into a driving and rather intense rhythm at the end. He told me later it was a speeded-up version of an old Panzer tune. It left the crowd kinda pumped and it was nice to see people so energized at 1:30 a.m. Bryon said after we finished Groves gave him a push and yelled (good naturedly, of course) “You band is so bad. I can’t even talk to you.” Rock ‘n’ Roll.
If anyone caught us on the intenets via The Cave’s live streaming thing, let us know what that was like. I recorded the show on my now vintage Edirol R-1 and will try to see if I can pull something off of it worth posting.
Opening up the show is the band Fontana from Durham, North Carolina. Can’t remember everyone in the band, but I know that Nathan Golub and York Wilson are in it. York plays pedal steel and runs Monkeyeye Photo studio in downtown Durham and lives on a big piece of land north of town and has his own pack of beagles. Nathan is a artist/newspaper guy who also plays in the bluegrass band Cadillac Stepbacks. He’s one of those natural musician types who can play anything.
It would be remiss of us on this day of solidarity not to post the Immigration Song.
This song was recorded about ten years ago at Yellow Recording on Rosemary Street. It is kind of a cruiseline commercial or at least I always thought so. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. And, yes, there is another backward guitar solo.
Here’s how the lyrics go:
Immigration Song by Lud
What we got is a place to take the boat to
What we got are these sunny afternoons
Join us here where the truths are self-evident
Oxygen, propriety and that strange sensation
I don’t know if I can take tomorrowland
I don’t know about these sunny afternoons
And I don’t know if this will damage your convictions
But the people who seem to make it here
aren’t the people who seem to make it here
Live in the car Live in the promised land
Living living living in a sunny afternoon
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain
In this civil society—the manifestest destination