St. Louis / Memphis

…in bed by one – what a luxury! Memphis and St. Louis were the two shows we were most worried about. They are cities where we don’t know anyone, really, and have no pre-existing fans or family. In the end, they were surprisingly similar and similarly affirming.

St. Louis went down at a room called CBGB. It’s a neighborhood dive bar in South Grand, an up-and-coming neighborhood that fifteen years ago was downright dangerous, and is now home to a lot of artists and assorted hipsters. We arrived, and the bar wasn’t even opened – and this was at 8pm! So we went down to the famous arch, the gateway to the west. The enormity of it was staggering. Then we loaded in…Matt from Bunnygrunt set up the show and brought in a PA. The neighborhood was dead, but he insisted that, owing to the nice night, that folks would be out. And after a few PBRs and some Thai food, there actually were.

The best part of touring, for me, is seeing the local bands – almost all of which are new to us. In St. Louis we were supported by the Shitty Friends, a very entertaining and provocative trio that blended folky pop with this a strange script that involved a cupcake business, a pony, a robot (who was given to the pony as a pet), and a sibling who is coming out of the closet. They were followed by a beguiling solo act known as Mustard Rob. It was our turn…it was probably the most basic set-up we’d had: a four-channel mixer, no mics on the amps, no monitors. We responded with a pretty intense set, more charged than Chicago, more angry, more tense. Stage was small too. People actually liked it, and we sold some merch and passed the hat. Made enough to get to Memphis.

We rolled into Memphis around 4, checked into our hotel, grabbed a bite, and went to Graceland. It still awes me that one man could mean so much to so many, strictly as an entertainer – albeit a revolutionary and extremely gifted one (prior to his lapse into explosive self-parody). The tour of Graceland ends at Elvis’s grave, and I’ll admit to being a little choked up. It’s very confusing.

Clint and Shannon in Graceland:



Memphis venue was another dive bar – a pirate-themed hovel called The Buccaneer Lounge. Check out the sign:



Forgetting it was St. Patricks’ Day, we went down to Rendezvous on Second, a stone’s throw from Beale. Some revelers spilled over, but it wasn’t too bad. The club was empty, but slowly filled. The opener was a great punk band from South Dakota (!) called the Redmen, which actually had two Native American members. Really nice guys. Very sweet. We thought we’d have to do an acoustic show, but they lent us their bass and drums and again we mined a more intense vein. “Annette” is still a little rough, but “Texas Toast” was great, and “Laser Show” was one of the better ones. Reaction was good, and we got some money – but sold no merch.

Local headliner Dave (I can’t remember his last name at the moment!) did an acoustic duo with a drummer playing just a plastic bucket, and drew from snarled blues and more John Hiatt-ish sorta singer-songwriter stuff. It was a weird paring, but he was eccentric enough and a very engaging personality. Nice man, too. His guitar playing took everything I don’t like about acoustic-electric guitars (the tinny sound, the buzzing, the feedback) and used it to an advantage, creating waves of feedback and using delay to turn the pinging sound into a percussive element. Very cool.

Now sleep.