Send Oxygen


Hello, friends! Rob here.


Clapping is weird, right? Like, when did we get together and decide, collectively- across all cultures, from Mexico to Saudi Arabia to England to North Korea- that slapping these two parts of our bodies against each other means, "I like what is happening right now”?


Anyway, the number one rule on tour is "Don't Get Sick.” Unfortunately, the number two rule of tour is "You're Going to Get Sick.” Once you've gotten sick, rule number three, "Don't Get the Other Members of Your Touring Party Sick,” comes into play. Unfortunately-er, rule number four is "You're Going to Get the Other Members of Your Touring Party Sick,” and rule number five is "You're a Jerk.”


I bought some cold medicine from big pharma today. I know over-the-counter cold medicine is supposed to be bad because it "only treats the symptoms,” but aren't symptoms the whole reason being sick sucks? Like, the annoying thing about having a cold isn't that OH DEAREST ME, GERMS OR MICROBES OR WHATEVER ARE CAVORTING ALL OVER MY BODY, because- spoiler alert- depending on who you ask, your body is somewhere between fifty and ninety percent bacteria and you can't even really survive without being a massive, walking petri dish. Having a cold is annoying because my nose is full of gunk and my mouth tastes funny and I can't breathe good. Am I missing something here?


Also, I realized I was a bit deceptive in the way I presented this tour. We're actually spending the first week or so on and off of the bus, with a few hotel/fly days mixed in. I'M VERY SORRY AND I'LL TRY TO DO BETTER IN THE FUTURE. In the meantime, this tour rules so far (other than all these goldang symptoms). Lafayette and Tulsa were both wonderful reconnections with cities that we hadn't visited in far too long. Tulsa was particularly special for me since I'm like, from there and stuff. It's a big deal to get to come home and play That Cool Venue From Your Hometown and it was super nice of you guys to buy all of the tickets to it. And then Denver last night, holy cow. Jeepers. Great gosh almighty. That's about all I can say there.


Friend whose album I'm plugging today: Barron Ryan, with The Master's Apprentice.  It's a wonderful collection of solo piano works by the likes of Art Tatum, Oscar Peterson, and Errol Garner (to name a few), attacked with the diligence and ferocity of a seasoned concert pianist. It's also a story determination, of healing, of unwavering love for music and unflinching dedication to craft. Barron and I go all the way back to high school jazz band. He came out and sat in with us at the show in Tulsa and knocked it out of the park, but that performance only exists as cell phone videos, so here's a better one of him in his element:



Day five. Be excellent to each other.