There was a time when we called this a "hell weekend".  That would mean we would drive 500 to a thousand miles in that short period of time to several destinations to play music.  Almost inevitably we showed up after six to twelve hours of driving, unloaded about a ton of gear, and then played music on our feet for up to four hours.  Those weekends were not in a total sense hellish.   We depended on them to compensate in some cases for periods of unemployment.  They’re typically in summer, when outdoor bookings provide additional work for musicians with such things as public concerts, private parties and festivals.  I also like to call it “making hay while the sun shines”.   Those weekends and many of the gigs are rarer now.  The days of cocktail lounge employment which provided regular tours for working musicians have about vaporized.  Maybe it's a good thing for us.  We no longer have the appetite nor  the endurance for them.  These days we both would be hard-pressed to drive home and arrive at 3 am in order to avoid the expense of a motel room.  We both tend to fall asleep at the wheel now, and don't have a big van with sleeping options for that cat-nap which could get us home at dawn.  Anyway, we're no longer fresh as a daisy and ready to charm an audience after all those hours of driving and moving heavy gear.

Work does continue for us, though.  We had a good time this Labor Day, which has proven over the years to be one of the consistent weekends of employment for us.  We had bookings Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday in Black Diamond, north Tacoma, Richland (Tri-Cities), and south Tacoma, and drove around 550 miles between them.  But this time we mixed plenty of pleasure with and between work.  We saw and visited with family, friends and musicians whom we've known for decades.  In some cases we've not seen them for quite a few years so for me many of the moments were sated with the cherished nourishment of love.

The music worked fairly magically too, for me at least.  Given that on all these gigs we were playing strictly as a duo, we had some exceptional instants of communing that can only come from a lifetime of performing together.  Twice at the Tumbleweed Festival in Richland we both got embarrassingly teary-eyed singing two of Steve's original songs.  The effect was disarmingly successful with the audience.  Several women swarmed us afterward, asking to buy recordings of those songs.    Even after years of singing them, Steve’s lyrics continue to stir the core of my spirit.  He meshes commitment with generosity, and vulnerability with courage as we live the words over and over again together.  I never tire of singing them.  When is it labor and when is it love?

Then today Steve did this characteristic signature thing of his very own on his electric guitar.    He flirted with me.  He grabs a rock and roll lead on some cover tune while we're playing for a dance crowd, this time the #3 Eagles.  He sinks into a concentration requiring a sense of relaxation and inspiration to tap into the requirements of improvisation.  Then he locks his gaze with mine.  Over the years I've come to realize he really wants to turn me on when he does that.  It delights me.

Now it's all over and we're home again.  Fortunately it's still daylight and I didn't need to drive all night.  I always hated those late nights when I came home to a blinking answering machine.  It many times meant someone urgently needed something from me, which meant I couldn’t flop into bed and enjoy worry-free sleep.  Such is the curse of self-employment, I know.  One can't come home without facing work and worry.  No such phone messages this time, though.  More than in past years, I'm satisfied and, yes, just a bit proud to get through that big hurdle I once termed a "hell weekend".

Spokane Valley

     We drove to Spokane again this weekend.  Kristi has been booking us for "one nighters" over there for awhile now.  We played the Spokane Valley Eagles.  It is actually a different city than Spokane, and is about 10 minutes by freeway from downtown Spokane.  We leave Tacoma around noon, but with a stop at the post office, and last minute forays into the house to find the things that we might have left behind it comes out more like 12:30 instead of noon.  It must have been pretty close to noon as we arrived around 4 pm in Spokane Valley.
     If you drive to Spokane Valley from downtown Spokane without taking the freeway you drive through a vast industrial area.  Kristi was commenting on the empty hills around there and how there should be houses on the hills, but my guess is that people with real money just don't think about living in Spokane Valley.  It's not as pecuniarily challenged as "felony flats", or Hilyard, but nonetheless I think exclusively middle class or less.
     Don't we try to ignore class here in the USA?  We try to pretend that there are equal opportunities for everyone, and I suppose if you can behave, dress, etc. enough like the upper middle class then you can get there too.  If, however, you believe that you should get your share of the profits of the business you are working for, or even a fair wage fogetaboutit.  Those who have are not about to give up their level of haveness to help the havenots, even if their having depends on a certain number of havenots.  This has reached the level of public discourse lately that has been blatant about these conditions and is greatly reminiscent of Marie Antoinette.
     To get to Spokane Valley, WA from Tacoma, WA one crosses the Cascade Mountains and the Columbia Plateau traveling through miles and miles of farmland and semi arid desert.  In the winter the desert here in Washington is particularly wet.  Yesterday as we were traveling across the farmland there was a wind, and apparently it had been dry as there was a cloud of dust hanging over the harvest corn, and potato fields.  This was with a dark blue, and grey sky in back of it.  I thought about stopping to photograph the scene, but I know that the lense of the camera does not capture what is in the imagination of a man easily, and I was hurrying back across the mountains to our home in "Hilltop" Tacoma.  Still, the scene lingers in my mind like it somehow portends some great happening in the future or the past, as that was the kind of vision that it was as it permeated my consciousness.  Who knows what that was all about?
     I find the travel across the state always stimulating.  On one hand there is always a sense of trepidation about the very idea of travel with the threat of being stranded someplace by weather, or mechanical failure, or just being too weary to sit behind the wheel of an automobile that length of time.  It doesn't seem to matter how many times I've done it successfully.  There is always the possibility of failure in the 300 miles, and further, the 300 mile return from the journey.  It is a journey that can be seen as being fraught with danger.  We have learned to push back our fear and move on.  I think that Kristi could tell you that I become difficult to deal with at times though, as the fear pops up in irritability, and outright crankiness in me. It is emotion that pops out like an item out of suitcase that is too tightly packed.
     Did I mention that Kristi grew up in Spokane.  That was definitely a long time ago now.  She is no longer a spring chicken, and I am definitely heading onto winter with my chicken these days.  I can imagine that that colors our perspective in travel.  I am aware that we could suffer "mechanical" failure as well as the automobile.

The car is silver
The mountains rise above
We drive far below

Monster

©Steve Nebel 2012

The sun fell slowly from the sky as we drove away from it.

It stayed long enough to illuminate our journey.

Does one ever really arrive?

I think that only happens once.

We brought our baggage with us.

I try to leave my baggage at home.

I always hope that it will be all new

But there it is.

Rusted.

Dirt from my fingers on it

And worn places where I have touched it too many times.

The tears still run down

And my screams fill the air

That should be still.

The 3D monster still stands in the corner

Mocking me.

It should seem like a cartoon character by now

But no

I still see the monster as a real possibility

And make him come true

Paint him in vivid colors

And listen to him go on about the conditions

In North Africa

Or Bangledesh.

Like he knows?

He’s only a monster.

How could he know?

He rambles on about a poor neighborhood in Queens

Mentions a Puerto Rican immigrant

And for a moment the monster becomes almost human.

We have arrived at our motel.

One always hopes for comfort

But that really seldom comes these days.

Four walls and a bed must suffice for comfort.

The monster screams into the night

Warning you about scenes that never come.

You move along

As the screams are too far away for you to be really afraid.

The fear is only someplace deep in your consciousness.

In the place though, it is as real as the sun

Which has been running away from

You and your monster.

     At the Eagles Club there was a fairly large crowd which only grew larger as we set up our gear.  We had what we think of as just enough time to set up, but this is a fairly large club, and there is a large stage which makes setup easier.  On a large stage you don't have to consider as much where you are going to put everything, and also we are not tripping over each other like one may be on a smaller stage.  If a stage is too small, one of us may have to set up before the other can even move enough to set up.  Oh, and Kristi and I have our individual responsibilities these days.  We have done it this way for thirty years now.  I set up the PA and my guitar, and Kristi sets up the computer and her guitar.  

     We had a happy dance crowd, and the first two sets saw the dance floor filled almost every dance.  I have noticed that they are an especially country crowd, although there is a small audience for our occasional polka as well.  By the time our third set starts the crowd is beginning to thin out, although several people come to the stage and let us know that they heartily approve of our musical selection before they leave.  Kristi and I work to play everything properly, and I use my wireless capacity to allow me out on the dance floor when I don't have to sing so I can hear what we are doing and get the balance of our instruments just right.  

     The drive over has tired me considerably, and by the last set both of us are fading.  The tempos of the machines start to seem fast, and if the machines are too loud I find it distracting.  We broke down all of our gear after playing and put it carefully away.  Kristi sipped on a coffee nudge while we put our gear away.  By this time I am wondering if I can get this part of the job finished.  I am thinking of security as we will be leaving our PA in the car overnight.  I am thinking about taking the guitars, and computers up to our room.  I am thinking about a warm bed and how good it will feel to fall into it and be sound asleep for hours.

     The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, but we were both so tired that we would have slept if it had been solid rock, and covered in ice.  These days I don't sleep in.  At least I don't sleep in very long.  What is with that?  My theory is that there are just too many places where you have little pains and that's what wakes you up.  Kristi apparently doesn't suffer this way as she can readily sleep in.  

     We went to breakfast with Kristi's high school friend Stuart at Dolly's Cafe.  It was one of those little places where they were well familiar with Stuart, and not unlikely with most of the rest of their patrons.  The parking lot was full when we got there except for one spot which we parked in.  We had left the motel a little early, and were early to our breakfast appointment with Stuart.  When he got there the people behind the counter pointed us out to him like they knew who we were waiting for.  We talked about his SOs drama/music project, his work, and commiserated on being landlords.  We will see Tim and Stuart when we go back to Spokane Valley Eagles in April.  It will be Kristi's birthday.  Of course it will also be "tax" weekend, and I'm sure to be filled with some kind of anxiety over that.  
     After a nice chat Kristi and I got in the car, set the mp3 player to play a novel we had been listening to, and drove back across the mountains and prairies of Washington to our home in Tacoma.


Steve Nebel 3-4-012

Workin' Yeah - Back in the ussa

     We are really home now.  The garden is started, the work continues, and my thoughts are filled with things that need to be done.  I’m also filled with memories of our six weeks in the UK. 

     Since we’ve come home we have played three dances, and a festival.  Friday we drove 600 miles and played four sets of dance music arriving back in Tacoma a little before 5 am.  I’m still feeling the effects of that trip.  Kristi drove most of the way, which was nice.  I bought an mp3 player which has a 12 gigabyte capacity.  I also bought an fm transmitter so we could use the mp3 player with our car radio.  We listened to an audio version of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” on the way over to Spokane.  It finished about an hour out of Spokane, and we had hardly said a word to each other the entire trip.  I suspect we’ll be discussing “Animal Farm” for weeks now, as it really gives one a lot to talk about (much more than when I was 16 years old and reading it for the first time). 

                              The Gregerson's Guest House

                                                        

     The week before this we drove to Anacortes, WA and played the Anacortes Eagles.  That is an arduous drive as it goes through the greater Seattle corridor, and the way things are scheduled we end up driving it at rush hour.  That means that we end up stuck in traffic for an hour or so of the drive.  We stayed with my sister, and brother-in-law there, which is always a pleasure as they live on a cliff overlooking the Straits of Juan de Fuca.  Their guest house is always well stocked with everyone’s favorite beverages, and has a Jacuzzi bathtub and a big comfortable bed.  We played Friday/Saturday, stayed over Saturday night, and drove back to Tacoma on Sunday afternoon.

                                     The Gear We Use 

     The drive to Spokane is always an interesting drive to me.  It is Kristi’s hometown, so we’ve done it a lot in all seasons, and in all kinds of weather.  It is approximately 300 miles across the state of Washington.  On the drive we cross the Cascade Mountains, and the Columbia River.  Interestingly enough, a wind farm is being built on the hills above the Columbia.  There are ferocious winds that drive over the Cascades into the little town of Ellensburg, WA, and I suppose it’s about time that someone used them for something besides blowing the roof off of a house. 

                                           Wind Farm on I-90

     It is a year of aberrant weather here.  Kristi asked me to check for snow on the pass on Thursday night.  I told her not to worry, that there was no way there’d be snow.  I was right enough, but it was in the 40s that night (Fahrenheit).  I will admit to being a bit jaded about these drives across our state.  I have done it, and done it in snow, high winds, blistering heat, with icy covered roads, and dust storms that completely concealed the roads from view.  In spite of that, I almost always find myself looking for something new.  There are still the places on the road that hold a complete fascination for me.  One of them is the Columbia River which is crossed by Interstate 90 at Vantage, WA. 

                          Rushing Across the Columbia River

     It is a 4+ hour drive at best, so we dare not stop at the view areas overlooking the Columbia Gorge, or go for a wander in the Cascade Mountains.  We don’t ever go skiing, although we often see the skiers on the slopes as we speed over Snoqualmie Pass at 60 + mph.  We read the signs in the fields on the Columbia Plateau as we drive through farm country, or enjoy the Christmas displays of lights that the farmers put up during the winter.  I am ever more cautious of the Washington State Highway Patrol, as they have taken to using unmarked cars.  I honestly try to honor the speed limits, but it is often difficult for me as I make yet another long drive across the state.

     Some of you may not know what an Eagles Club is?  The Eagles is a fraternal organization.  Kristi is a member of our local Eagles Club.  They are working man’s clubs, and vary greatly in the texture of their memberships.  You can usually count on seeing a few cowboy hats, and a lot of cowboy boots shuffling across the dance floor, although this is not always the case, especially in western Washington.  They keep us employed, although we occasionally work Elk’s Clubs as well.  These clubs are largely Caucasian, but not necessarily.  In this part of the United States it would be illegal to have a club that would discriminate on the basis of race, sex, and probably religion, but on the other hand you can count on these clubs being 99% white, and Christian.  Some of them insist that we end our night with ­“God Bless America”, which we gladly do as we depend on them for our income, and are there to serve to our best ability.  I’ll admit that it turned my stomach during the Bush years to sing that song, but those were jingoistic times, and we jingoed right along with the rest of the crowd when  we figured it would fill our pockets.

     We are becoming an anomaly simply from outliving other bands.  Spokane is a place where musicians find a place to play, and they stay there for years.  It means that if you’re a young musician, you’d better find a gig with a band of oldsters who have the gigs, or you may end up not working.  That’s the way it has been, but times are changing.  Frankly, there’s a lot less live music than there used to be.  The money has not gotten better, and in fact, as you all know, a dollar or a pound is worth a lot less in 2010 than it was in 1985.  We don’t’ get more of them than we did then.  As a matter of fact, we were able to demand more money in those days that was worth more than we can now.  Our dance floors are not as crowded, and younger people don’t dance at all.  The local police wait outside barrooms and pull cars over at closing time just to see if they can charge someone with drunk driving.  The alcohol limits have gone down, so you don’t have to consume as much alcohol to get a drunk driving citation.  Still, I see people stagger to their cars after drinking way too much to drive.  Of course, that’s a bad thing.  There are still too many deaths due to drunk driving in this country.  On the other hand, we used to be better paid due to the heavy alcohol consumption where we were working.  In the eighties Kristi and I worked in barrooms of all kinds.  There was a bar that we worked in Ketchikan, Alaska where we actually did an eight hour shift singing.  I still am incredulous that we did that.

     When we arrived at the Spokane Eagles on Friday night there was a band playing.  No, we were not double booked.  That band is always there on Friday nights, and there’s always an elderly crowd filling the dance floor dancing to instrumental versions of their old favorites.  This band is different from anything I’ve seen anyplace else.  It is made up of piano, banjo, drums, baritone horn, or sometimes tuba, and saxophone, and/or trumpet.  You see, it’s not always the same individuals who play in the band, although I think the piano player is usually the same guy.  This band is a remnant of a band that was popular in that part of Washington in the late sixties through the eighties called The Moms, and The Dads.  They play thirties, and forties hits that were favorites of my parents, as well as things like “Just Because”, and “Clementine”.  I’m very entertained by them, and they always play all the way through our setup time.  A lot of their crowd goes home shortly after we start playing, but we have our own bunch of dancers who come in to dance to us.

                                   The Band In Spokane

     We are playing in Spokane a lot this month, which probably won’t happen again as Kristi’s family is no longer there, and it is a long drive.  It also doesn’t pay enough to justify the long drive, especially at today’s gasoline prices.   Kristi did renew her acquaintance with some of her high school friends while her mother and brother were ill.  That could draw us back across the mountains from time to time, and we have friends who have a solar house in Idaho.  We will almost certainly make the trip to visit them at their house.  Also, never say never huh?  Well, almost never say that.

     We have been working on Kristi’s CD, and are approaching final vocals.  Here's a sample of the kind of thing we've been working on.
         Crazy Arms - Rough Mix from Kristi Nebel's Solo Album
This week we will start working on backup vocals, and next week the pedal steel player/dobroist will come in and play some more.  I think by the end of June this project will be at least in the middle of mixing.  It is fun to work on this project.  I am mostly just the sound engineer, but I will be singing some on the project, and I did play a few rhythm guitar tracks.  We really want this project to fly, so we have been sparing no expense.
        Heartaches By The Number from Kristi Nebel's Solo Album
We played NW Folklife Festival last Monday.  That was a week ago now.  We saw Kristi’s producer Toby with his band, The Smilin’ Scandinavians.  He had a big band, and Toby was in fine form having more fun than usual.

                        Toby Hanson and the Smilin' Scandinavians

         Just Because from Kristi Nebel's Solo Album
We also saw our old friend, Marc Bristol and his band, Okie Doke String Band with Doug Bright playing piano, and Marc’s wife Gabby on bass.  We had a good crowd at our performance on an outdoor stage. 

     I will be working in the garden today, and in between I’ll be at work on Kristi’s solo recording project.  I hope you all are having interesting, productive lives.  We are doing that. 

                                                                                               Steve Nebel

Day Five - Back in the USA and still ALIVE!

Hello all:
     Kristi and I have arrived safely at home in Tacoma.  These first few days are very dreamlike, although we are struggling through, and getting a few things done.  It feels like we are slightly ill.  That's jetlag, and I think it's getting worse for us as the years roll along.  It was definitely worth it to have jetlag though.  We had a marvelous time in the UK.  The ash from Iceland's volcano kept us in the UK, but that was a positive in the end as well.
     Last night we were in the studio for the first time since getting back.  We are working on a solo album for Kristi.  It is a western swing project for the most part.  There are a couple of songs that are just country, and one that is country rock, but they are not totally incongruent with the project.  Here's a list of songs we are working on:


Crazy  -  Patsy Cline
Right or Wrong  -  Bob Wills
Stay All Night  -  Bob Wills
Six Pack to Go  -  Hank Thompson
Detour  -  don't know who did it but it is a country classic
I'm an Old Cowhand
Don't Fence Me In
Crazy Arms
Waltz Across Texas
Swingin' In Tucson  -  Joe Wiehe
Just Because


My songs that made the project are:
Bow
Bats in the Belfry
Would You Hold My Hand (written especially for the project)

                                         Country Dave Harmonson


     We have put drums, rhythm guitars, fiddle, and now pedal steel on the project so far.  Last night was a pedal steel session with Country Dave Harmonson.  We remember Dave from Court C coffeehouse back in the early 80s when he was Johnny Guitar for the folk set.  He went on to head up a couple of country bands in the Pacific Northwest, and was in one of the early roots country bands that played country with a rock n roll attitude, "Lance Romance".  His last big top 40 country band was Stampede Pass, and they had enough of a following that you often heard their name on the radio playing here, or there.  

                                                Toby Hanson


     Our producer on this project is an old friend, Toby Hanson.  Toby plays accordion, and heads up a band he calls "The Smiling Scandinavians".  You might have guessed that it's a polka band.  Toby was in the Filucy Hootchie Kootchie band with us, and while he was doing that was attending Cornish Art School in Seattle learning all about music theory, and the business of music.  I've gotta say, Toby was having way too much fun doing his job last night.  The tracks are really coming together, and Country Dave was making them sparkle all that much more with his pedal steel.  Oh yeah, one of the guitars last night was a triple neck steel guitar, no pedals, or levers.  
     It was interesting listening to stories of the road, and of course we had to swap stories every now and again as all of us are seasoned professionals.  Dave has the most experience, and maybe the best stories.  Both Dave, and Toby are seasoned country music fans as well, and had stories about the artists who graced the original versions of the songs we were working on last night.  

                               Country Dave and His Steel Guitars


     We hadn't really had a chance to listen to the fiddle tracks that Paul Anastasio put on these songs before we left for the UK.  It was great listening to him make love to the songs with his violin while Dave laid down his new steel tracks.  I think sometimes last night that we had Dave play another track just because Toby and I were having such a great time listening to him.  There were a lot of laughs, and it was a loose session in that regard.   
Recording this new project is a kick in that we are working with top notch musicians, and it's something a little new to us.  We'll be back in the studio after this is done recording a new folk project, probably folkier than anything we've done in the past if the songs I've been writing are any indication.  In the meantime we're having some fun doing something a little different for us.

                        

                               Our Country Singing Star, Kristi Nebel  


     After we finished the last track, and I had saved everything onto another hard drive it was almost midnight.  Kristi and I poured a drink and put a movie on.  It was a thriller, and I watched it to the end just because I could, and because it had me on the edge of my seat all the way through.  It was 2:30 am by the time we went to sleep.  We stayed up because we could, not because it was a particularly good idea, which it wasn't.  The day is starting late.  We will go back to work tomorrow when we play a dance for the Bremerton Elks from 11:30 am to 3:30 pm.  It will be wierd strapping on an electric guitar.  It will be kinda fun watching everyone swirl around the dance floor.  I'll probably think of some of you while I'm watching.  All our best, Steve Nebel