In the end the only way to tackle a three-month backlog is to start with the most recent, and hope for the stamina to work backwards.
For all the warm welcomes we’ve had all over the country, in places both expected (New York, Seattle, Chicago) and unexpected (Wichita, Kent, Cloudcroft NM), there’s a certain inimitable feeling to playing at home. It’s a matter of timing of course: the East Coast folks are the equivalent of college friends, while those in the Bay Area are kids I grew up playing with in the street. On Thursday I saw people who had come steadily, month after month, to my gigs at tiny fluorescent-lit Red Rock Coffee Company. I hugged the man who wrote my first CD review. I invited friends backstage who last saw me play when there was no stage, let alone dressing rooms. And there were somewhat-newer familiar faces: Michele and Erik, faithful tapers; Gordon and Shelly, who were expecting when I first met them and now have a young son; and Paul, who’s followed the tour since July, and finally swallowed his fear of flying to come to San Francisco.
It’s a good place to try things, to walk further on the tree limb, because there’s a sense of context. So we tripped out Feather Moon until it was a Peter Gabriel reference. We brought out some Estonia songs and let John loose with his crazy board o’stompboxes. I found out that one does, in fact, kinda need towels when one plays standing up and bops around on stage. And the audience gave us full home court advantage—give us everything you’ve got, they said, we’re up for it. We’ll help you there.
The following are backstage photos. For shots of the actual show, ask Klaorman or Calvin.
| Jim and Nate all psyched for the gig | Nate, mit IKEA Lampe |
| Marika’s backstage hobby | a friend models Marika’s handiwork |
| Odessa and Marika | some groupie and Alan |