Of course, this album will be available for digital purchase and mail-order at the fabulous rushmore beekeepers bandcamp, so don’t fret if you’re not going to be there. (If you are going, though, be sure to get your Bröötal Sun Fest tickets early!)

Check out Mullarkey’s blog entry on the history of South by Meow West as well as the entire line-up at the Bröötal Sun Fest website.

Happy Holidays and all that!

And what’s this? Why, it’s the free rushmore beekeepers christmas mini-album you haven’t downloaded yet!

Local poet Harry Fagel performed as well, spoken word full of sometimes serious and sometimes hilarious observations, with much of the material coming from his experience as a police officer. His delivery (and his work) is strong and honest, and he is also a great guy.

The art display itself was fantastic, featuring the works of locals Keri Schroeder and Gilbert Hernandez. The awesome dedication of Alternate Reality Comics to devote a section of their store to an art display is inspiring and encouraging in a city where art fights hard to be seen. If you live here or visit, you should go there and be amazed. The store has anything you could ever want (if not, they always have great recommendations in any genre), and you will always be treated like a friend. Oh, and did I mention Ralph proposed to his wife Kate in the comic book Preacher? How cool is that!

Oh, I almost forgot; you can watch my performance and pretend you were there, thanks to Punks in Vegas:

If you are making a digital scrapbook of everything RB, their blog entry is right here.

Shortly after I finished my set, I went to thank Ralph and he grabbed Daytripper off the shelf and said “I want to give this to you, I think you’ll really like it,” in his super nice voice and demeanor that is guaranteed to make you want to give him a big hug and bawl like a little baby at the genuine unconditional kindness that somehow exists in the world. He was right about Daytripper; it is thoughtful and beautiful, and you should read it.

If you’d like to compare, which I always find interesting, here’s the band-sounding album version:

At some point, Carrie discovered the Joshua Tree Inn; Gram Parsons not only had a dedicated room, but it was also the room in which he died. For my birthday, she reserved us that room and planned a weekend trip out there. It’s an amazing place; still the desert, but different than the desert we’re used to: Joshua Trees with crazy arms growing in wild directions, rocks that look like skulls, and the most threatening cacti I’ve seen.

After telling a visitors center employee our reason for the trip, he drew us a map to Gram’s cremation site. I hadn’t planned on being able to visit it, so this was incredibly exciting to me. We stopped throughout the park for short walks and pictures; after passing it a couple times we found Cap Rock, the site of Gram’s cremation. It was quite an experience being there; the messages in the rock had been recently sand-blasted into oblivion and the altar was moved to the Joshua Tree Inn, but just being there was amazing. As the nice visitors center guy said, it was the perfect spot to set a body on fire and keep it out of the wind.

(Let’s take a moment, recognize this may be considered slightly morbid, and move on.)

The innkeeper, Marsu, was incredibly nice and had all kinds of information about the area and the things we should see; we went to Pioneertown, which looked exactly like you’d imagine, and met some nice people who did amazing woodwork and small crafts. We saw a fantastic San Diego-based alt-country band called Sara Petite and the Sugar Daddies at Pappy and Harriet’s, the last of the great pioneertown bars, with great food and iced tea in mason jars.

Gram’s room was kept as I’d picture it in the 1970s, while decorated with Gram Parsons posters, relevant newspaper articles, a string of white Christmas lights, and an amazingly enormous guestbook. The door to the back patio was “gold-plated,” just like the door in The Flying Burrito Brothers’ “Sin City.” The altar from Cap Rock had been relocated a few steps outside our room, and it was nice to see it every time we opened the door.

I wish I had a cool ghost story to go along with this.

Gram's Altar at the Joshua Tree Inn

"A gold-plated door won't keep out the lord's burning rain."

The show was pretty casual, and not many people were talking to to the band before they played, so Carrie and I decided to say hello. Carrie told Jenny that I was her biggest fan, then took a picture of us together. I never know if this is a good thing to tell someone; I told her that she probably gets this all the time, but she is one of my biggest influences. She said she never gets that, and seemed very moved that I had told her. So I was glad I shared.

Their performance was absolutely fantastic. Jenny and Johnny are both passionate and obviously committed (no reference intended, unless you caught it; good job!) to delivering a stellar show, even to an open casino area of non-ticketed fans and passers-by.

Oh, a few minutes after we talked to her, after some indecision and discussion, I rushed over and gave her one of my newly printed business cards and said something like “If you ever need an opening act in Vegas, let me know.” What’s the harm, right? At worst she won’t look me up or will misplace the card (although she did put it in her jacket pocket), and at best she’ll listen to songs like “some cliches,” “like a pirate’s hat,” and “if i left the stove on,” realize how profoundly she’s influenced me, and want to cover my songs and/or produce an album, possibly taking Carrie, the dogs, and me on tour with her and Johnny. No pressure, Jenny.

I’ve never liked sitting down while playing live; I’m probably too self-conscious, but I try to avoid most things that could be interpreted as singer/songwriter. Maybe that’s why I never consistently performed live with my drums; I’d been used to standing up for performances, so even if I was doing something somewhat unique it just felt weird sitting down. My old set-up was a bass drum and high hat with tambourine, so for recent shows I ditched the high hat and set the tambourine on the bass drum, so there’s one drum to hit that covers highs and lows. Less involved, so I can stand up and focus more on singing and whatever other instrument I’m playing. (I know there are other ways to do that, but that would involve me finding a band.) There are only so many beats I can handle while performing and it only works with certain songs, so I’m not sure how often I’ll be doing this. But between that and switching out various instruments, I hope I can keep everyone entertained, maybe even convince an audience I’m a band.

It might get crowded:

Don't forget to hit the drum!

Thanks for following along.

who knows where we’ll end up
if we’ll end up where we think
who knows where we’ll end up
if we’ll end up on the road between
here and there

looked for the eclipsed moon
the clouds covered the sky
so dark they looked like smoke
with no sign of glowing fire i could see
i couldn’t see

dreamt the end of the world
had come and gone, and come again
dreamt we lived out on a farm
and we had to grow our own vegetables
sing our own music and write brand new stories
and make our own clothes from what we had
we built a fire every night
to let the world know we were alive
we were alive, we were alive