Touring Tales With Ish: Atlanta

This day was heavy for me. Heavy with warmth, wonderful hospitality, history, grief and remembrance. We woke up in the home of Drew and Gray. Together they spearheaded Dr. G--the record label that released Elements of the Field on vinyl. Just last night we were talking of how good hosts are such a game changing, special occurrence, and these guys were great to us. After making a little oatmeal and coffee, Gray took us on a short tour of Atlanta. We stopped in the neighborhood where Martin Luther King Jr. grew up. We walked into Ebenezer church just in time for a presentation on its history and a surreal live performance of the "I Have a Dream" speech. The actor shut his eyes briefly, opened them again and as his voice bellowed through the hall he became someone else. Imitating Dr. King in a way that could almost make you forget he was reciting history.

We walked upstairs to the sanctuary and sat in the pews. MLK grew up in that church, co pastored it with his father and was later mourned and celebrated there after his assassination in the late 60s. My mother's face was all over my mind. She was 18 when he died, and grew up a segregated small Texas town. She used to tell me stories of sitting in the black section of a local cinema and how they were restricted to the balcony but felt they had the better view anyhow. How she remembered the bus ride to the first integrated school in town. How color blocked the city was. She had the "I Have a Dream" speech on vinyl. She collected books on the civil rights movement. She was fascinated by its documentation. And so of course, while walking down the street Martin Luther King Jr. walked down, seeing his house, his church, I was drenched in her.

I couldn't stop imagining what her face would've looked like if I could've told her where I was. I could hear the excitement in her voice so clearly that if I didn't know better I would've guessed it was real. I experienced all of this, knowing that I'll see a million more amazing things that I'll want to tell her about. And then I disintegrated at knowing that I won't because I can't. It's crippling. But there I was among friends full of excitement for a celebratory show with great people and our day had barely begun. I swallowed my grief. Chiseled my face into a smile and continued on.

Back at the house I curled into the tinniest ball and fell asleep in an arm chair. This is a quite useful skill I've acquired after five years of touring. I can fall asleep at nearly any moment in almost any place. I probably wouldn't trade gold for that.

After snagging the couch partway into my nap, and after multiple sneaky photos by passersby, I woke recharged, mostly emotionally centralized and ready for music.

The label guys organized a house show. The place was neat. A porch swing nearly the size of a twin bed. a long dark wood church pew to its left. a lamp inside that was once an old gas canister. A light made from an edition bulb attached to an old wood plank. The host runs a vintage/antique shop in the city and its written all over his house, which slowly began to fill with people. I played first and felt okay about it all.

This tour is such an experiment for me in learning how to perform alone. There are so many external elements in play each night, and I'm just relearning their weight. I'll tell you more about this another time though, this post is reaching monumental proportions. After a local songwriter performed, Idyl was up! The set was big and loud and all the while spacious. Someone yelled out a couple requests and we ended with a mellow "Ship of Death" encore. classic.

We left in good and perhaps sleepy spirits. Drew home brewed some moonshine and it perhaps got the best of some of us. That paired with a celebratory drink of Japanese whiskey back at the house had us all feeling rosy and full. We traded stories as we leaned further and further into the walls, into our chairs. We set out our sleeping bags, found our sleep clothes and darkened the house for some shut eye. We sold a few records, made some money, played a great set and all in good company. What more dare we ask for?