Hello, friends! Rob here.
Sorry it’s been so long! George had a wedding to go to over memorial day weekend, which ended up giving us about ten days off. You’d think I would have had all kinds of time to let you know how Hangout Fest was (amazing), but noooooo, I had to find a place to live and move into it before we left for tour. I’m sorry that this has pushed my duties as Band Historian to the back-burner, but between moving and having a rare opportunity to spend a week with my New Orleans friends, I had to take a few Wednesdays off. Anyway, we are on tour. As a band. Doing band guy stuff. In places
Because some of the things I’m trying to write about are now almost a month gone, I’m going to use a gimmick that I thought was kind of fun a few months ago to help condense this entry into bullet points. So, back by no popular demand, is a list of potential titles for this entry. Titles are written in bold and elaborated upon where necessary.
Tristen and the Caitlins – Is not a band, but rather the names of the three bartenders (one named Tristen, two named Caitlin) who worked the artists’ hospitality area for the entire weekend of Hangout Fest. They took excellent care of us and put up with 72 hours of continuous nonsense, almost all of which came from us. It was cool having the same people posted in the same places all weekend, because after a while you’d get to know that this security guard wants you to sneak him a water bottle full of booze, or that guy in the food tent is cool, or that lady at the gate isn’t going to put up with your shit. But Tristen and the Caitlins were an essential part of our Hangout experience. They were genuinely fun people, and it would’ve been a lot worse getting drinks from them if they were all surly and temperamental and what have you so cheers to Tristen and the Caitlins.
Hangout Festival: A Hipster Tank Top for Every Man, A Sunburn for Every Hipster Tank Top
I Can’t Believe We Did That and Nobody Called the Cops – Where “that” is hosting an all-night (like, midnight til six in the morning) jam party in our rented beach condo, complete with drum kit, amplifiers, PA, and me standing on a couch playing saxophone with no shirt on.
Moving Already Sucks But It Sucks a Little Bit More When You Do It in June in New Orleans
Tour Mode: ON
Chicago Has My Parents in It!
NuNu’s Got My Shoe-Shoes – There is a man named NuNu. And he has my shoe-shoes. He accidentally took them when he left the afterparty in Chicago, so now I am wearing his shoes. We are going to work out an exchange later when I get some downtime. Hopefully it will involve trench coats, a parking garage, and briefcases and/or nondescript brown paper bags, but it will probably just be both of us finding the nearest FedEx Kinko’s.
#sandwichsummer2012 – That’s right, folks, you heard it here first (unless you already heard it somewhere else, like my Twitter page)! Back by actually some popular demand, I will be tweeting every sandwich I eat this summer! And who knows? There may even be a few surprises along the way!
Central Pennsylvania, Have You Always Been This Beautiful?
A Semi-Private Conclave – Is the exact phrase used by the talent buyer at Bowery Ballroom to describe the hospitality area they reserve for opening acts. As I write this, we are driving to New York (see above), so I have no idea what that could possibly mean.*
That’s all! It’s good to be doing band stuff again. We’re going to lots of places, but honestly, I’ve been so preoccupied with moving that I’m not entirely sure when and where and what is happening for the next few weeks of my life. Oh well, I’m sure someone does. In the meantime, you (and I) can find out if we’re coming to a principality near you by checking out http://www.therevivalists.com/shows.html, which you can also find by scrolling to the top of this web page you are currently reading and clicking on where it says “SHOWS” in big letters so really the link in this paragraph was unnecessary but whatever I’m not taking it back.
And lastly, because I’m currently on a wicked Journey kick, I’m gonna send this one out to all the traveling musicians out there fighting the good fight, and to all the friends we have on the road who make away feel like home.
Only 200 days left to keep the dream alive.
*: As of editing and posting this entry, I have seen the semi-private conclaves, and I can assure you of two things: They are conclaves, and they are semi-private.