My friend, Brian, asked for glimpse of what we experienced at the Newport Folk Festival yesterday. This is just me shining a tiny little light on it, but I thought I’d start with the best and the last and let you all share in a very beautiful memory…

More soon.

—

Dear Brian,

You mean besides the fact that we just played the freakin Newport Folk Festival?! Well for starters… Levon Helm- I asked Linford if it was ok that I still had a crush on Levon and thankfully he said yeah, it was ok. Levon sounded better than ever. Solid deep warm grooves. Swampy and soulfully southern. His voice slightly more grainy and weathered, even more endearing. His smile- a million dollar smile full of joy. Absolutely infectious. He surrounded himself with fellow musicians that complemented his style and sensibilities and shared the spotlight with his daughter among other vocalists, guitar, keys, violin, upright bass and horns. It seemed to be more about creating a space where others could share in the joy of music. There was no sense of Ego with Levon Helm. It was more about the music and the celebration of life - like a precious gift or a secret that he was now privy to.

I had a strange sad feeling come over me that this could be the last time I might see Levon Helm perform live. And then his smile lit up the stage and I was caught up again in the revelry that was exuding from him and could not help but to live in the moment. What a high.

They ended the set joined by David Rawlings & Gillian Welch and others as The Weight rang out over the lawn and across the bay.

More soon. I gotta get some sleep - we have a double header in NYC tomorrow. And I’m lovin’ every minute of this.

Peace.

K

Florida in January? Why haven’t we thought of this before?

Well probably because once we’ve slept in our own beds for the first time in weeks/months after slogging about the Midwest in rain and snow during the Christmas tour, the last thing we want to do is leave the house.

January being a good month for us to catch up on the bills, paperwork, red tape and taxes, is also a great time to catch up on some much-needed deep winter sleep.

And of course Linford and I tend to prioritize some quality tail-wagging time walking the dogs, Frisbee throwing with the Wiemie and rope-a-dope with the Big Guy.

(Good metaphor there. I use and re-use the idea of playing rope-a-dope with God.)

I look forward to writing during the first month of the New Year. Something about those concrete skies, long black ice nights…

Everything that I’ve been thinking about, experienced, or felt over the past few months is piled in a big messy heap in the dark back corners of my brain; I like to sort through the laundry of it, then mix and match a little bit with the soapbox jingles I’ve documented on my handheld digital recorder. And I have cassette tapes like spools on which many threads are spontaneously spun throughout the year. My favorite recording tool is a fairly primitive 1984 Sony boom box. With these things I piece together whatever comes out in the wash – a musical crazy quilt.

It’s one method I have for writing. And a very fun one for me.

But here we are in sunny Florida. No quilts necessary. And it’s not so bad. It’s obviously warmer and drier. That’s a good start to the year knowing what some folks are having to deal with up north. Although I couldn’t personally live here during the summer months, Florida has its perks in the bleak midwinter.

We stayed on the beach in St Augustine. Nothing fancy, but you can’t beat being able to walk on the shoreline when the mood strikes.

And we embarrassed ourselves a little when we discovered this odd little lounge at our hotel in Stuart. The owner must have had some ‘emotional ties’ to his former life in the Big Apple and had this strange and frankly off-putting mural painted on a wall adjacent to the side bar. It featured gravely unidentifiable and amateurish likenesses of some remarkable and legendary talents — Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennet, etc. Sometimes celebrity is merely a curse. Yikes.

The cover band played into the night and reminded the septuagenarian set of their youth.

Yeah, we thought, we’re young and healthy and a bit above it all as we observed coolly from a back table.

So eventually Nick joins Mickey, Jake, Andy, Linford and I. And he can actually dance the Salsa. So, Nick strolls out on the dance floor smooth as glass. Twirling those old birds around on the parquet.

I gave everybody the royal nudge, and there we found ourselves twisting again like we did last summer.

We all had chest pains after about ten minutes and had to sit down. The septuagenarians did not and danced til long after last call.

Hmmm.

Thank you so much to John Loesser for having us back to the Lyric Theater. He’s a natural ambassador for Stuart Florida bringing in singing coal miners from Nova Scotia and dancers and performers from well beyond to the lovely yet unassuming beach town. 300 days a year. Well done. It’s a lovely venue and at least we’ve agreed upon making the Lyric an annual event. See you next winter, John, if not before. And thanks again for the wonderful opportunity. And hospitality.

From Café Eleven to the Lyric to the Bamboo Room to…

See you somewhere warm.
k

Dave (Juicy) says he wants to be in a nursing home before he dies.

Most folks say the exact opposite.

This is the kind of thing we talk about in the morning on our way to find some coffee. We get to thinking out loud.

Dave says he and my mom could be neighbors. But we know they’d only get into trouble knockin’ off the med-cart and all. But that’s another song that I need to get recorded one of these days.

My mother, bless her heart has been in a full time skilled nursing care facility since she suffered a devastating stroke in the fall of 2001. I guess my differentiation between the aforementioned and a ‘nursing home’ gives me some consolation in having to say it at all.

I’ve said many times how grateful I am for the men and women who take care of my mom. I know they truly care about her. They’ve become family to both of us. And as Linford has said, we give standing ovations to the wrong people in this world. At the end of every shift change at every hospital, nursing home, and care facility there should be a line of folks standing at the door applauding those nurses, aids, social workers, and caregivers that give so much of themselves day in, day out.

When we submit our loved one to a facility for full time care and relinquish so much of their day to day to the hands of strangers, we encounter a fear and an unknown that we’ve not known before. That fear makes us nervous, anxious, edgy, even hostile and defensive toward these very people that have dedicated their lives to the care of these individuals in need.

I’m not saying it isn’t good to be wary, cautious. I did my homework before I subjected my mother and her care to a facility like this. I knew what the state inspections ratings were. I knew how long the administration had been in place and that the turnover rate for the nursing staff was tellingly low.

I unfortunately had to find out the hard way that these things make a significant difference in the equilibrium of a care facility. And consistency is key. I was the first in our circle of friends to be the durable power of attorney over the care of a parent or loved one. I was scared to death and had to learn fast. Mom had no other children nor close relatives to help out with the intensity of her situation. We were on our own.

I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without my partner, Linford. Truly.

But I’ve seen, and still see, families coming into this new scary world of wheelchairs and hospital beds, medicines and catheters, trauma and depression, resignation and recovery with their tired eyes widened and glazed over, absolute fear coloring their every interaction. I’ve been witness to verbal assaults born out of confusion and exhaustion.

And I’ve been there myself.

And I’ve seen how a caring trained professional handles these crazed moments with calming assurance and grace. And I’m often amazed at their patience.

It helped I suppose that I was raised by a nurse and I know about those times when she was just trying to do her job and do it well and encountered some angry family member. I remember what that did to her and how she would sometimes be able to shake it off, and how sometimes she couldn’t and she’d bring it home and wear that useless negativity like a noose.

And I know Dave’s wife, Sharon, who works the night shift in the emergency room at Children’s Hospital has had more than one occasion to cry on her husband’s shoulder. She bears witness to things we can only imagine and deals with parents that are no less in shock.

Hospitals, nursing homes – scary places at times and all places we would not want to imagine life without.

Nobody is perfect and no situation is perfect. I’m sure some of you reading this have had bad experiences involving the medical care of a family member, experiences that never should have happened, that maybe were neglectful or even criminal. It’s unfortunate that this happens, but it does. And in those cases the family and loved ones are left to pick up the pieces. It’s an ungodly burden to bear. I’ve been there too and was fortunate and aware enough to sense an imbalance in one facility in particular in time to get my mother out and on to the safe home she has now.

I was fortunate. And lying awake at night more than I would have liked.

I am sleeping better these days. I have trust in my mother’s caregivers that has been earned by them – by their care and dedication, their reputation, their attention to detail and their relationship with my mother and myself.

I’m thankful for them and what they do. I wouldn’t be able to live the life I feel I’ve been called to live if it weren’t for them.

We’ve had an extensive touring season beginning last July. Mom is doing so well. I’m still scheduling (with the help and understanding of our booking agency, Skyline) our tours with the necessary breaks so that I can check in, visit with Mom and make sure everything is up to snuff, so to speak. And it works out well for all the families of our band and crew. We’ve found that it is possible to balance this way of life – the road and home, work and family, occasional chaos and stability.

We have learned to verbalize our gratitude to the people that help us do what we do.

So as we were thinking out loud looking down the double line of about 200+ miles to Ann Arbor, I realized I needed to write about my experience thus far and felt like part of that process involved again thanking the caregivers that enhance the life of my mom. And I am truly grateful, again. A handful of them will be joining us at The Taft again this year along with Mom.

Oh, and as I commit this to the internet, it’s Dave’s birthday.

Shuffleboard Dave? Or maybe just a little game of Bingo?

We’re admittedly (and pleasantly) surprised that well over 500 of you came out to see us tonight.

Thank you!

It’s a groovy, drafty old theater in northeastern Ohio. Lots of vibe. Cool old red crushed velvet seats.

The best part - for me anyway- is I usually get to see my old high school buddies Kenny and Scott. And I love singing Ohio when they’re in the room. Feels so good. Love those guys. Just makes my day when they show up.

Seems like we all thought we heard some female voices hollering about our old alma mater, but we couldn’t figure out who that might have been?

Anyway, I would be remiss if I neglected to mention that during his solo tonight, well… Mickey blew a wingnut.

Need I say more?

If anybody has pictures of Mick holding his floor tom over his head during his solo, please post them. It’s a visual.

Goodnight.

k

PS congratulations to the happy couple who managed to pop the big question tonight with Linford’s unintentional help. And she said yes.

Chicago, Madison, Minneapolis and Milwuakee

To successfully kick off this last leg of the tour, we couldn’t have chosen a better scenario than a coupla sold out shows at The Old Town School of Music in Chicago.

Honestly, two shows in one night is not my favorite model. It’s strange to get psyched up for one show, to pause for an hour or so, and then do it all over again.

Regardless the Old Town venue, crew and audience are a truly great experience. We have great shows every time we play there and that’s what it’s all about.

And travel being what it is, a long haul translated into a short night. Next time we’ll have to schedule a day off in Chicago so I can get some Christmas shopping done in one of the most beautifully bedecked cities this time of year. But not this year.
On to Minneapolis.

A packed house at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis made the drive worthwhile.

(Thanks to Mike for the photos this time around.)

We hadn’t played this venue before. It was really more of a hall than a theater like we expected, but definitely a good listening room on the larger end of the scale with a kind-hearted, hard working staff.

Thanks to Kent and Sue for the flowers, and it was good to meet your daughter, Brandi. Yes, Kent, you two look just alike. I remember first seeing old family photos of my father and seeing my resemblance to him for the first time. I felt like I belonged somewhere. This is when family is good. You belong somewhere.

And thank you to Erin again from Flarrah’s for the fantabulous cheesecakes. The boys had at it last night at the hotel and are eternally grateful.

We were invited to do some morning radio at one of the best public radio stations in the country. Thanks to KCMP for having us and for playing our music. Dale and Jim Ed (aka Tom Keith of Garrison Keillor fame) interviewed us. What an amazing studio! A nine foot Steinway, Neumann mics and a Neve console. Our Dave and their engineer Mike had a good old time. And so did we.

In Madison we played The Majestic. An old theater renovated and reopened. She’s two months old in her latest reincarnation and lovely.

This is the absolute best kind of venue. A 600 seater where the mojo of old ghosts still lingers in the air vents while the band, crew and audience can enjoy a professionally upgraded facility. The new owners took great care to clean it up, install great sound equipment and provided a great backstage area. Since we live there, we musicians appreciate this attention to detail. Scott and Matt are fantastic and more club owners could take some notes from these guys. I hope they open many more clubs like the Majestic around the country. Godspeed.

In Milwaukee we (well Mickey) segued into a rousing chorus of ‘Oh I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Weiner’ during the show. You had to be there. But guess what we found in front of our hotel when we checked in. We felt the inspiration.

See you in Kent, Ohio
Karin

If everybody could just see this (feel this, taste this…) life would be so much better all the way around.

We walked up into the third floor of the York St Café to find Michael and Marilyn, his children, sister Donna, and a couple of close friends and family members still scurrying around in preparation for the silent auction of some of Michael’s prints.

The energy in the room was sacred, but not sterile. Holy but not austere. And the hair on my arms prickled to life as we walked around the room drinking in the work of our greatest single musical influence.

Isn’t that something? He’s a photographer by trade. But Linford and I have repeatedly stated that he’s been more influential to us musically than any other single source.

(After all, it was Michael who first played Tom Waits for us.)

I came to realize Michael had chosen an older photo of myself and our beloved Willow, our Weimaraner, for his brochure and as one of the portraits to be voicelessly auctioned off that evening.

Something stirred in me seeing the old girl, so alive, so at work, watching me for her next clue.

Other folks who remembered her commented how her naturally sepia-toned beauty transcended her death thanks in part to Michael’s keen eye.

Beauty in the eye of the beholder, and so on…

I then saw Emmy Lou Harris’s portrait with her dogs, and Bill Frisell and Joe Ely each with theirs. And I know that Michael shares this deep deep love of dogs with us. I’ve seen him with his own. I’ve seen our own formerly abused and extremely man-shy Great Dane, Elroy, whine with gushing affection at the touch of Michael’s gentle hand.

We spend much of our lives trying to wrap our heads around what it is we do – what it is we are supposed to do – what we are called to do. However you want to phrase it, on a good damn day we simply surrender to it, wag our tails and play.

We find that in fact we truly are capable of chasing the Frisbee, and we run, jump and catch it looking surprisingly like Derek Jeter.

We run.

Some days we have to work so hard to be faithful to It especially in it’s most elusive, gray moments, some of those moments lasting for years; and that spiraling transition we call depression. I think about my own crippling self-doubts and the smoke and fog of that blinding deafness. The smoldering depression that lurks around the corner just waiting for one spark of fear to set it off again.

And I’m so thankful that I’m not the only one in the world who has ever felt this.

I am especially thankful that I’m not living there today.

We’re all still learning – which means we ain’t dead yet.

Tail wagging.

Run.
Run.
Run!

With gratitude and admiration,
Karin

PS Stay tuned for more about Michael Wilson’s Portrait Studio or go here now:
www.daylightportrait.com

Rosie Thomas!

Highline Ballroom

Thank you Keith for the Yellow Roses! Great night, great fun.

Fantastic venue. We love NY.

The Handlebar.

Wes runs a clean ship, too. Well done man.

We laid eyes on some sweet and dear friends. Thank you Aralee for the gardenia and Red Mule Grits. We felt so welcomed. And thank you for the company and the gift as well, Brenda. Good to see you girl.

Well smother me in Kudzu.

Speaking of, Linford freaked out the audience by announcing his affinity for the scorned viney weed. We northerners appreciate its Edward Scissorhands affect on the landscape. Of course we haven’t had to deal with the ramifications of it on our gardens. We have our own green devils up there.

Thanks to the Grey Eagle for having us back and especially to Sean and Zach from Music Allies for working so hard to spread our music around. Love you guys.

And Oh! those fried green tomatoes! Wow. The kitchen at the Grey Eagle is the real deal.

It was Rosie Thomas’ first night with us and we’re very happy to have her on the road. Looking forward…

K

We always love this show. Larry, Andy, band and crew have a great thing going here. And this visit we met the mysterious Francis who controls all things in the radio recording world like the wizard behind the curtain. It’s all about Francis, you see. Molly Felder joined us again and she and I crooned along with Amy Rigby (from side stage) as she blew the roof off the (notsucha) dump. Later we all caught up at the hotel and Amy linked us to her daughters’ latenight Chicago webcast radio program. Since Amy moved to France, we appreciate catching the now more rare performance and some quality time.
I’m looking forward to her next record.

Soundcheck

Mountain Stage Set

A stolen moment.

End of the first US leg. Rode hard and put away wet (as L is prone to say) and still smiling.

Finale

Linford and Bob Thompson

We had such a great time with the Mountain Stage gang. I’ll tell you all about it and post more pics tonight…

k

One Juicy Mix

Wexner Backstage Cam

Ok. It was wierd. It was a stage on a stage. And the audience had to stand for the show (partitioned from the comfy seating) and were offered only pop and water. Hmm. I don’t think any of us knew how to react. But still a gorgeous venue. And we were glad to play it.

So next time it will have to be 21 and over for them to open up the wine bar.

You have to give them credit for getting creative with the space. But why don’t architects/contractors/developers get the idea that you can build a theater with modifications to adjust accordingly from 600 to 3500 seating? It’s possible. It’s just rarely if ever done. We use arenas and curtain off two thirds of it - I’ve seen Norah Jones and Bob Dylan do it.
Why not seated theaters? Somebody just needs to think ahead. It’s not rocket science. Even strategically hung theater curtains or baffles could be used? Surely? Come on!

So for the folks that expected seating, thanks for staying. As for next time, now we know.

Or if each of you that came brought three people to the next Columbus show (forcibly if necessary) I’m sure they’d open up the seats and we’d all be happy.

Thanks to the Wexner for having us and to their crew for being fantastic to work with. Makes all the difference.

Karin

PS L and I took thirty minutes and caught the William Wegman Funny,Strange exhibit next door. Coulda spent a couple of hours. We’ve been fans for years. Now I am more convinced only us truly crazy folk can understand the Weimaraner.

We spent most of the day bouncing from one radio station to the next. So, all work and no play… but we made up for that later.

Anniversary # 11. We were fortunate to be spending it on the road doing what we love.

The shows! I mean the shows!

Here are some pics of the day.

Molly and Grafton joined us!

The day before, we stopped in New Harmony, Indiana to see the gorgeous house Mickey and Molly are selling.

Molly’s sister’s dog gives big love.

Getting ready for the Swan Dive CD release party.

Rhythm Room

Driving

Club Congress

Tuscon’s Club Congress with its adjoining Hotel Congress has the cool factor in spades in spite of a cumbersome absence of elevators. A high bed, a desk and dresser, a ceiling fan and a radio — what else do you want?

On the Radio: KXCI and The Mountain)

The Soiled Dove — Denver

The boys have a little treat after the show.

It had been too long since we played these rooms and cities. Half expecting an empty room here and there, instead playing to great crowds and to a sold out house in Denver was fantastic to say the least. Running into familiar faces along the way — my high school pal, Lynn in Phoenix and some fellow Santa Fe Glen Workshoppers at the Soiled Dove – gives added incentive for us to raise a holy ruckus.

We still think we have the best audiences in the world.

At one point early in the tour a rock flew up and hit the windshield. A small crack formed on the passenger side and has increasingly grown across toward the drivers’. We thought about putting hash marks: Seattle, Frisco, Raton. Today it stretches nearly half way across and we’re placing bets on where it will land by St. Louis.

See you there.

k

And by the way, today is Nick’s birthday! His first on the road with us. We’ll try to have a little fun with him tonight in Kansas City!

best
k

dressing room

chew to the beat

first show

Shakey rocks the big screen

big screen

Larger than life

Mickey

Show two - deja vu

g’nite

The morning after

One nice day to explore some guitar shops,

the Pacific ocean,

and for some of us, our sexual orientation.

Just kidding. Molly and Sharon have nothing to worry about. Really.

The Knitting Factory — a great room that has really been let down. We rarely let you all in on the disparaging bits. I guess I’m making the exception here. The dressing rooms were disgustingly uninhabitable — reeking of mold and really God knows what else — and the stage and house gear had been sadly abused and abandoned. I really don’t get it. We heard rumors that a certain popular band made a reputation of trashing this club. Cool. Not.

Dave, Brandon and Nick were the only three people in the club who seemed to know how to run a board and patch a cable. Unbelievable. We used to love this club.

Fortunately, those of you who stood in the audience had no idea that this day was three times the work it should have been for any crew. And all because our crew worked so damn hard to make it appear that way.

Our hats are off to our guys. And of course to the audience as well. You had quite a selection of other shows to choose from on a Friday night in LA. Thanks so much for being with us.

You were worth it. As usual.

k

PS this is a link to some cool pics - thanks to James for taking them.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamesyeramian/sets/72157602136162721/

In the film documentaries we watched on our drive day, Johnny drove his RV with June, Carl Perkins and others in tow. Linford and Jake drive south on the 5 with me and the boys much the same. From 1958 Town Hall Party to Memphis in 1968, Cash is on the screen in the conversion van and girls are screaming their fool heads off for songs like Don’t Take Your Guns to Town.

And everything was right with the world. (Well almost.)

We stopped on the way for some fuel, like you do. The cost of fame?

Ouch.

And inside we found some munchies – California style.

Nick models beef jerky.

It was a long drive from San Fran to LA. But thanks to Jake’s collection of Cash videos, it was relatively painless.

K