Dual Taurus Tour Diary


The Ford Taurus Rocky Mountain High Tour

Go forth with your Sex Brain and be folk: First day of the tour here we come. Nothing but a drive to kill so we can make it to Des Moines on time tomorrow for sound check (boring!). The tour begins with me and Noel on the fiddle, and we'll pick up Josh from Oakland in Denver. He played with me last year in the Northwest and down the coast. Noel and Josh are strangers, but making friends is part of the fun, yes?, and we'll see lots of old ones too (Bob Dylan in Stockton, for example). The '95 Ford Taurus is packed with coffee and candy and refurbished with $980 of new guts, ugh, ready for the mountains and all that other stuff. Yippee. - JD (3/20/06)

Songs: Iowa: Woke up yesterday in an overpriced Super 8 and took the other half of our drive to Des Moines, stopping at the largest truck stop in the world according to the promotional material. Showed early and killed hours before our show with Boo and Boo Too, Why Make Clocks (or as I say, Why ... Make Clocks?) and Magnolia Electric Co. A real small crowd, but the VM venue was a good one: great sound, great people. We played 2nd and the show went well. When it is just Noel and I, we can wing up to 30 songs, so no set list. There were 5 women in dresses and heels down front yelling "Sex Brain! Sex Brain!" during our first 4 songs. Before the show at a pub, Noel got a free beer because Mondays in March are mustache madness and it was agreed whatever he is growing wasn't connected. Made his day. When I was a little one, we sat out Halloween candy with a sign that said, 'please take one' and that honor system didn't work last night as the first Sex Brain was swiped, but we sold a few others and ended up in a Super Sucks with HBO. Are we really going to Madison tonight, Mr. Snowman, then Lincoln? Dig me out, Black Swan. Oh, and that part about the hot girls yelling our title was a lie. Sorry. - JD (3/21/06)

Thanks for listening, we're the Backtrack Swans: If it doesn't look familiar, that's because it's night! Who booked this tour, a crack head? We drove 6 hours for a show that is a pass the hat in Madison, and then to Lincoln, which means, I know now, we drive the same road we drove earlier today, which we drove earlier still. Confused? Look at a map, I didn't. But Indie Coffee was the best. No p.a., great tiny room, which I love, and I had one of my favorite shows ever. JJ, the owner, is beyond sweet, making us sandwiches and drinks. The Onion gave us a nice mini-pick stealing a little from a WB review and saying I sound like a suicidal Chris Isaak and that IDW2F sounds Jenny Lewis-ish, so what the hell? Played with Nethers who were super good, and sold some CDs. One guy wanted the CD that had the first song we played, but that one doesn't come out until 2017, so stuck him with a Sex Brain (to tell the truth, it's beginning to feel weird singing a song about masturbation all the time). Took to the repeat road and spent our winnings on gas, bottled water, and bananas because there is a giant stuffed gorilla in the back seat (don't tell the rats in the trunk!). In another motel since playing with other out-of-town bands means no one has a floor. How's the Taurus?, a dream, baby, dream. Charlie Starkweather land in the morning. - JD (3/22/06)

Corn in my gas: So, plus gas is cheaper because there is corn in it, but don't ask. Noel did, and he's still at the pump. We made it to NE and found a good club that was a bit messy. No pm time for our set, no weekly paper because Bright Eyes is from Omaha not Lincoln, and a local opener that stole its stage banter from Miranda Sound circa '97. But real good sound and style to the place. Super nice people. We played great and had fun, wish it was taped. Bruce was name-checked via disguise. Mark, my excellent friend for 15 years showed up with Kristie, and we stay with them tonight. The bartender's
name was Angel. We signed her CD. Maybe I'll move here. Denver feels positive. We get Josh tomorrow in Denver. - JD (3/23/06)

Mile high, mile low: Noel and I ate prairie food at Lucy's while 3 dogs in a truck kept and eye on us. Cowboy stuff abound. Got to Denver to see our name on a sign facing the big downtown, but what did that do? No tour posters hanging in the 15th Street Tavern, but lots of smoke. No weekly mention as we're in the Bernie's of Columbus. Josh looks good and the place is a proper dive, so fun is fun. The Places (Amy) play and so does Absolute Zeros, and the night goes smooth with free PBR and nothing to expect besides Phil putting on a great light show for us and because he spent and hour setting it up in slow-mo, this is good. He was a special man. We leave after a few CDs sold and $16 in our pocket (gulp!) to stay at Amy's in the "non-incorporated" side of Denver. I wake to miss my leather jacket and leave Denver feeling like I lost my best friend of 10 years in a dirty corner. So sad, and hope I don't get cold. I had lentil stew before bed, so time to move on. - JD (3/24/06)

Under the Banner of Sex Brain: In SLC we brought a broken Golden Plate filled with Dark Plums. Mapquest let us down, so the dry drive through Wyoming ended with a scatter brained loop of SLC that lasted hours. Kilby Court was an incredible place and some guy from the U.K. did a watercolor flyer he sent over just for us. A deer! Small crowd, but they loved us more than anyone and I made balloon animals after the show. We went to dinner and drink with Nicole and Erin, one of Noel's WV friends. Amazing women: smart, funny, nice, beautiful, and well-read. Josh and Noel and I sound real good after 2 shows, so Missoula we leave for now. - JD (3/25/06)

Miss Missoula: Left SLC and found blood on the highway that kept us backed up for an hour, which followed the blood from slicing my Adam's Apple in the shower that
morning so I was feeling very Biblical. Finally got to Misssssssoula after being bounced on the highway with rain and wind and something godless. The Taurus is lightning going down mouintains, and the dry brush and rage of weathers and solitude (as Noel barely talks-- he's more like a metaphor for my other self) makes me feel like I'm in a Cormac McCarthy book. The show was real good. Higgins Alley was a bit muddy sounding, but listeners abound for quiet music on Saturday night and fun was had. Pillar Saints (we love you), Jessica, and Travis played great. Two big, well-written reviews in the weekly and daily. Horace Roscoe got props for his sax, and everyone knows of the dark plums, can you believe it? Someone played 'Blue Skies' on the radio, so sing along morphine users. Scott, Alicia, Trent -- friends from Columbus -- showed and made the night super good. Day off today, then to Olympia. Josh left and we'll catch up to him in Chico.
 - JD (3/26/06)

Oh no, yes, yes: so we drive all day to Olympia, the beatific state CAP in a grand forrest, and there are 32 bands on the bill. The town is surreal, and later we find that Ryan McPhun, who's band we are suppose to play with has burned the Chevy to the ground with all the passports, so make that 31 bands but only 4 play. Christina is a sweetheart bringing us cupcakes but everyone is younger than young and Noel and I look like Grandpas. Sex Brain takes a new turn. The guy that played before us sang about grow lights, the band after was panic rock and people danced. Also, I have a bald spot the size and shape of Somalia hiding under my flop of hair that I guess is from displaced anxiety, but maybe I ate a bad nut. Already in contact with my dermatologist in Columbus. Going to Anna's now to regroup. Another Bates Motel last night.
- JD (3/28/06)

Portland Water: Noel and I drove into some Michael Hurley to celebrate our arrival, quickly finding Anna and I made more talk of joining the Northwest migration. C.J., Lorca, and Tom all got seen. So nothing else to say, except the show at Valentine's minus a p.a. has been my favorite so far. Feeling good and tired, no messing around, we gots to drive nine hours right now. More best friends today. Worst journal entry yet, but I'm beyond beat. - JD (3/29/06)

Merle Haggard: Long drive to Chico and down Highway 5 we pass Mt. Shasta which is checked my favorite song by Hag. I nap for time number one and Noel takes the wheel of the Taurus. He handles it well, so we arrive to Cafe Flo in a two pieces. Babara Manning is excellent and so is all my good friends. Scott put the show together and the press is scary. On the cover is my mug and a headline that says "Sex on the Brain: Singer/songwriter Jerry DeCicca conducts his own sociology experiment with the Black Swans" and I almost get arrested at town line. The article is funny, but I move beyond creep status into neighborhood watch territory. We have a great show, sell CDs, get fed, and make balloon animals. Barbara got a penguin and named it Jerry. Last show tonight and we re-connect with Josh. - JD (3/30/06)

Over and over: We made our final drive together, me and Noel. At least for a little while. Pulled into the Mission where Gaunt and I bit the truth 10 years ago, final rock star parking experience blocking Make-out Room door. Walked in the rain, Aquarius records and tacos from a 17 year old mmm good. Matt Bauer and Ray's Vast played so good. And look who showed up: Kristina recognized mid-set, Noel's college roommate who stole him to the airport, Josh for the double basssssss, and Julie, since 13 we were friends and haven't seen in 8 years. We were over before we were over as chatting took the night, since we played last. Tough last show, Taurus. We fought and lost, anti-anti- I say, but we played alright deep down, just no connection. Now, I'm alone on a couch somewhere with no idea where the Taurus is and a locked cell phone with no un-lock code and this is a long boring story but what should I do? - JD (3/31/06)

The Ford Taurus Ramble Tour

Night before take-off: Black Swans Ford Taurus Ramble Tour. Not a giant haul, but 10 days in the south, then a few days home, and off again to the northwest/west coast. This time, gone with a mini-band I’ve never played with outside a handful of practices. Seems like a good and bad idea, like all things that are raw and unrehearsed. The Taurus is getting its catalytic converter fixed today. Old car, big trouble. Ugh. This is reason #14 why the poor stay poor. Taurus is analog (tape, no cd) and my Box of Bob is full (Time Out of Mind, New Morning, 6 bootleg cassettes from the 80s my friend Tony gave me). Also taking some old Ampex tapes: Mickey Newbury, Tony Joe White, Kristofferson, Joe South, Turley Richards. Even grabbed the first Dire Straits cassette from Used Kids yesterday for some reason. Dylan covered Sultans of Swing during Infidels (this freaks me out); I’ll hum along to Telegraph Road. In a perfect world, the tour will be like this: the shows will be well-attended, I’ll kiss a pretty girl with a southern accent, drink sweet tea, and have a miniature cowboy adventure like possibly killing a man over a game of pool. But enough pretending I’m Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, the truth is I’ll probably wake up on hardwood floors everyday hung-over, covered in dog hair, with $7 in my pocket. I had a dream three nights ago that my apartment caught fire and burned while I was away. No one was hurt. High hopes, high hopes. Canaan, the bassist, is bringing his bowling ball. He loves to bowl, he tells me. Its name is Mr. President. - JD (1/19/05)

Desperadoes Under the Eaves: You know it is snowing hard when it takes three hours to drive to Cincinnati form Columbus. Mapquested to the club, which took us up a steep, snow-covered hill that the Taurus's front wheel drive couldn't handle. Chris and Canaan even climbed on the hood to balance out all the weight in the trunk, but we couldn't make it up. Poor Taurus only has so much muscle. Once inside the Comet, a near ghost town. Even my mom was a no-show. Step-brother, step-sister- not a chance. Dr. P-latt and his wife, Hiromi, were there (original Black Swans guitarist) and sister Suzi. Even the tour posters I mailed weeks before snowfall were absent. Still, a good show. Well played and sparsely enjoyed.  Afterwards, we ate burritos and chips compliments of the Comet. Good people there. Suzi is letting us crash at her place, drink her herbal tea, with Nashville's drive in the morning's slush. - JD (1/20/05)

"Nashville was the roughest, but I guess we could say the same about them all": I'm not traveling with Paul English, but I had Canaan, Chris, and sunshine all the way to Johnny Cashville. Once there, we went to some record stores- Great Escape where I bought a Kristofferson/Rita Coolidge picture disc (I am a super geek), then to Grimey's, the only store in town with a Testifyin' display (an import Cd I wrote the liner notes for). The guys at Grimey's said they like the Black Swans cd, but, like most, were at the Modest Mouse show across the street from the us. We were the critic's pick in both the Nashville Scene and the Nashville Rage. Couldn't have asked for more. Had dinner with Diana Darby and Mark Linn (the man behind the little engine that could that is Delmore Recordings). The Springwater serves beer only, so we brown bagged our whiskey. No ice and no p.a. but still had a good show, at moments a great show. The door guy wore a Black Swans t-shirt so he could point to his chest when people asked who was playing as he muscled their $3 cover- very hardcore. A woman tried to pinch my butt, but found little to grab on to. Tungsten 74 played afterwards and rocked. A perfect night.  - JD (1/21/05)

Chapel Hill drive was the longest: Turns out, not only can Canaan ride a unicycle while playing the banjo, he can also pick along to his ukulele in the back seat, copying melody lines from Van Morrison and Biz Markie (from the streets of Oslo to picking buggars). The longest drive so far. We get to the club and find out there is a tsunami relief show with Superchunk and a dozen other bands. Hard to complain about that, but again, none of the tour posters were anywhere in the club, no on else was on the bill, and no listing in the papers. No surprise, we played to the bartender for five songs and zero dollars. But everyone here is incredibly nice. We were given the keys to an apartment we didn't use because we went with the famous Pallas and Cameron, the drummer for the Comas/Jennyanykind, to a bar called Hell that involved whiskey, tequila, beer and, as a result, shaky hands and short-term memory loss.  - JD (1/22/05)

Full Moon Sunday: The drive to Columbia, SC was covered in a sky that Caanan describes as the color he gets when he tries to mix paint. But by sunset, it was striped blue, purple, pink, and gorgeous, cut by pines, a full moon hanging over. Columbia is colder than it is supposed to be and the soundman tells us that the chill will keep most away despite the great show preview and photo in the weekly paper. The New Brookland Tavern reminds me of the old Stache's. We play with two great openers, Elegance (one guy) and Nervous System, who become our new best friends. Our show is our best so far. I close with a new solo harmonica song and during its opening harp a fight almost breaks out down front  about who can be more quiet, and the night feels perfect; the small audience huge. Afterwards, Nervous System tries to talk us into going to a bar across the river for some drinks that is open late on Sundays (when it comes to twisting the arms of the Black Swans into partying, it seems we're made of Silly Puddy). So how wild can a Sunday night get?  Like this: The bar is filled with 80s music and a row of robots. For some reason, people begin throwing glasses against the wall, smashing one after the other, and it feels natural. Shots called "Shooting Up" are served, a man tries to make-out with Chris, one of the guys from Nervous System gets into a fight and ends up rolling around on the floor in the broken glass.  By now, I am in front of the Capital building at 2am, because I feel the need to get real close to a statue of George Washington. We're all lunar loonies. In the morning, we go to Maurice's for all-you-can-eat racist BBQ with Sara. - JD (1/23/05)

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Gentrification: Savannah was covered in Spanish Moss trees and a southern chill that continues to weigh down the tour. No one is on the streets except a few guys that didn't make it into the mission in time. We eat pizza in a cold cellar dive. Lots of chain bars, dress-code blues bar, richers and poorers. At Boba Cafe, Donovan, who booked the show, tells us that one of us should stay sober to drive out of town while the other two suck down a bottle of vodka. We partially take his advice, skipping out on playing to no one and checking into a Super 8 with a cup of tea and Smokey and the Bandit on the TV till we all fall asleep, sober and super broke. - JD (1/24/05)

Life's Rich Pain: The Taurus pulls into Athens early (you remember the Taurus - this is a diary about the Taurus) and we spend the day poking around town. No mention is in the papers until the new issue shows up two hours before we play. We drink PBR and I get a headache. The Caledonia is the old 40 Watt, so all day: walked, swam, hunted, danced, whatever.  We play with Dirty Mittens, my old friend Wade's band. They play first and then everyone leaves. Hull House afterwards for eggs. In the morning, Wade makes the best coffee of the tour. We now have no money since the $16 we made from the night before was spent on drinks at a late night bar before the late night breakfast. On our way to Jacksonville, we listen to Johnny Ray and I realize how free I feel despite floors and poverty. My anxiety has never been so low. The day is clear and I feel  clean. In Dublin, Georgia, a tiny town, we eat tiny cheeseburgers at the Minute Grill where they say they'll be ready in a minute. Again, everyone we meet is more than nice. They only accept $5 for the food even though we own three times that. The Black Swans feel good. - JD (1/25/05)

Hard Bizkit: Woke up in Athens remembering my dream: the Black Swans were about to play half-time at the Super Bowl. Producer's choice: "Hours Never End". Turns out SB Whocares? is in Jacksonville where we're driving. Sound check, and then meet Brian, one of my best friends ever. Two good articles (one's a mini-interview) in the papers with photos. Still, the club is really too loud for the Black Swans. We play well, but drowned by the crowd for the next band, which is like a young Cure-Interpol thing. A year ago, they would have been huge. Lots of young young girls to see them. After the show, a woman I know from New Mexico is there and asks if I do any visual art. I tell her, no. She says, I thought you did little drawings. I say, again, no, but that Canaan is working on some racy little sketches of "cock and balls". This sounds up her alley, so introductions are made, and Canaan is half-way to his first southern art show. He is a talented man. Chris is the Ambassador, a well-earned nickname. Everywhere we go, he can talk to anyone. This is funny and brilliant all at once, but mostly funny. He's unconscious and sincere. I love them both. Brian took us to a park at 1am to see a 300-year-old oak tree that was gnarled and gigantic. Canaan and Chris climbed it, but I'm chicken of heights. Oh, we sold our first Black Swans t-shirt tonight: green, large. Fucking fashion plate, you Florida. - JD (1/26/05)

Surrealistic Pillow Talk: The drive to St. Petersburg hesitates due to more BBQ. This time, baby back ribs at Fat Boys. But despite all I eat, I'm no Fat Boy. I've lost weight on this tour. In town, we meet Chris's mom, who drove a few hours to take us out to dinner. Very sweet. We open up the Weekly Planet, and the write up is more than kind, calling me an "unsung songwriting giant of his generation". Funny how hyperbole offends and feels good. The Emerald Bar is by far the coolest place we've played. Kat from Little Brother's friend shows up and I show him my Chapstick. The Mercy Seat plays first, and they are so great. We play with them tonight in Tampa and then they'll come up to Columbus in late March. Our show is great. We sell CDs, t-shirt number 2, Chris gets a voice over gig, Caanan drinks scotch neat. In the morning, we hear "Blue Skies" on the community radio station tucked between Billie Holiday and Leonard Cohen. The DJ says all kinds of good things about us, plugs the show. We met her the night before. Chris and Canaan go get fed for free at her coffee shop; I skip lunch and go to the Dali museum.  Locked out on a porch between a row of palm trees, I pull an orange off a tree and suck it dry, spitting the seeds against a row of candles, not hitting one. Final show on the Ford Taurus Ramble Tour is tonight. Do I want to go home? Fuck home. - JD (1/27/05)

Tampa Dampa: The Taurus only had to drive a 1/2 hour to the gig today. Tired beast needs its rest. Tried to stop off at the Oyster Bar for free slurps where Jesse works, but it was too crowded. At New World Brewery, we were fed pizza and free beer. Best jukebox of any bar. Had it play my old buddy Jeb's rasta version of Johnny Cash's "Worried Man". It hung fat and heavy in the wet air. The Mercy Seat had to cancel for family reasons, which was sad, so we were without our buddies. We played on a wooden, outdoor patio, the wind blowing palm trees around us. The Black Swans sound good here. We sold a few CDs and t-shirts (Florida is looking good!). It was the last show of the Ford Taurus Ramble Tour and we're all a bit sad, I think. We slept at Jame's place, but won't see him again until March. The plan is to go half way in the morning, staying in Columbia, SC to see our friends we made on the way down. - JD (1/28/05)

Sunday Evening Coming Down: The Ford Taurus Ramble Tour is over and despite its ups and downs and check engine lights on and off, it was all ups without stalling. We left Columbia, SC after our friend Sara made us pasta and fiery garlic bread and took us to another night at the Art Bar. The drive back home was all moans and sighs. Chris and Canaan miss their g-friends, but my stomach itches and wants to stay away. I'm going to miss hearing them play the ukulele and harmonize to 30s parlor songs, making strangers friends, singing songs every night, laughing a lot, letting nights become wild, long and raw. The Black Swans were fortunate in many ways for many things. The Ford Taurus is 79 in car-years and we're all proud of it. Hears hoping it'll make another tour (knock on fiberglass). My apartment is cold, but I'm feeling good that I gave it a proper cleaning before I left. My storm windows are locked-down and I slipped on ice when I unloaded the trunk. Two days ago, I sang under palm trees, chewed citrus, walked down the block to buy a Cuban sandwich after spending the day along the Gulf of Mexico. I just got an email inviting the Black Swans to SXSW, we said, um, yes. I leave in 5 days for the west coast to meet new band members to group there, so coming down won't last so long and the rut won't seem so steady and real. Real? We listened to Time Out of Mind and drank coffee coming out of Charleston into the dark fog of southern Ohio. Then, reaching Columbus, stopped at the St. James Tavern for a shot of Jim Beam, toasting the Taurus, the Black Swans and friendship. We're all beautiful and lucky beasts. - JD (1/29/05)

Landing in the Ol' Northwest Tour

Friendly Skies: This is day one of the "Landing in the Ol' Northwest Tour" which gets its name from an old Bob Dylan song. Truth is this: I'll be landing in Oakland where Josh from the Catalpa Boys will drive us up to Portland to play in-store the next day. Never played with him once - not even an inch - but will do the tour together and by the end we'll be one. He made noise on the phone last night about a pump organ and I'd like to hear it. Also, turns out he drives a stick and, guess what?, I don't. Here's to a quick learn and warning/shout-out to McQueen, Newman, and Days of Cruise (Black Swans love Duvall!). So I'm leaving the Taurus behind for the friendly skies, parked and dirty the way it likes it from the southern salt and snow. Long flight, lay me over in Atlanta, stung by Hotwire gamble. First show is Music Millennium at 7pm. I land 11 hours away at 10pm the night before. At 3pm the guy from Timbuk 3 is is singing about my sunglasses. Keep track, harmonicas are packed. Going to scribble some new song on the plane I started in St. Pete called "New Face" with a nice B-flat and dig into new John Haskell novel. Jet set you Black Swan Emperor! - JD (2/4/05)

Planet Portland Waves: Landed on down in Oakland and my new band member/friend Josh picked me up to drive 3 hours to Chico where we stayed with Scott and Christen and Hazel -- two of the three I saw last at a Mayan ruin in Chiapas when I married them on a high temple. Hazel, dirty blonde hair, the by-product of that, was beautiful. After just a few hours sleep, we left to drive up to Portland. You like mountains, sure you do. I took the stick and neutraled in a rest stop before we got into town. Josh and I talked about Percy Mayfield, so we'll be great friends forever. Music Millennium had a big red curtain and a big tight stage and 3 Black Swans CDs in stocked marked down to $7.99 (top of the pops!). A little nervous since we didn't even get to practice more than a 1/2 hour ever, but we did fine.  Bowed double bass and lots of harmonica, which is how this bit will go. Anna, Tom, C.J., Lorca, and guys from Burnside Distribution were there. Good show, well received.  Another photo with Dr. Silverfoot's fowl-art in the paper. Afterwards, chili cheese fries, laughing, and sleep. Been missing my friends I saw tonight. We go to Seattle in the morning to the Bob Dylan exhibit (the real reason I'm here) and to play with Michael Hurley, so how can I be more excited.  - JD (2/5/05)

Oh Mercy Approximately: Woke up meeting little Milo, a fine young man. Then left for Seattle to Bob exhibition at the Experience Music Museum and then the show at the Tractor Tavern. Crossed the Columbia River in rain, listening to the Wipers. A real NW moment, though Woody Guthrie would have been fine, too. Got lost, then pulled over, so we were given a police escort to Bob, how does that feel? Special. 3 hours before closing, not really enough. The museum was great- academic and real fun. Bob is always good, inspiring. Amazing video footage, unreleased concert from early 60s never booted, high school yearbook...  And a Hendrix exhibit. Black Swans practiced with rough and tumble instruments in interactive room. Hit Watchtower in tribute, like Bob and Jimi falling-down-the-stairs style. NW Passage exhibit cool as well, but never thought I'd see a Team Dresch CD behind glass. Gift shop was lame, but unless there were Bob action figures I wasn't walking out happy. Tractor Tavern arrival revealed this news: Black Swans left all their CDs in Chico, so we'll double back and pick them up in the middle of the night off the end of a driveway. So since we couldn't sell CDs, we sold promises. $10 today with an address and you've face-to-faced your mail order. After our show, which was so good -- dead scary quiet -- and recorded, one man tossed his cash and home napkin-scribble our way. A saint, I say. Michael Hurley showed how it was done. One of my favorite songwriters ever, incredible guitarist. TT best club ever maybe? Uh-huh. Drove 3 hours back to Portland that night to sleep off the tired.  Took two outdoor pees. Thanks Bob!  - JD (2/7/05)

"... but I drank his plop-plop-fizz-fizz for nothing and then I stole his song": Woke up in Portland after a night home with my first can of Red Bull (which reminded me of the green Taurus -- will someone in Columbus, Oh please go pet it!), so the morning was dry and fast, but breakfast with Lorca was slow and excellent. Drove into Eugene for Sam Bonds Garage show, where we ate soup, pizza under a roof dripping giant paper stars and an hour of Kristofferson by request. Bad news is I started getting sick, so popped some Sudafed and felt the speed shooting into my fingertips by show time. Chris Ruiz and Elizabeth showed, and, again, I got to see some old friends for the first time in years. Set was good, Josh now playing tiple on two songs, minus a woman yapping the whole time stage left and a man with a hook hand interrupting the set, telling me to stop mumbling my "bluesy poetry". Afterwards, Dylan's "Mississippi" started playing and I knew I was busted. We left straight ff because Josh had to work at 1pm Tuesday and we're 8 hours away and needing to stop back in Chico to pick up our Black Swans CDs. We traded off driving while the other slept, but the night got the best of us and we had to pay $55 to sleep in a cold motel in the mountains for only 4 hours. I call it Igloo Inn. Make it back to Oakland, and I feel awful, snotty, aching, ugly. We play tonight on a good bill, so I need to get fixed up. Dr. Josh has me on all kinds of herbals. And oh yeah, Pitchfork wrote a nice review of the Black Swans title track (or as Noel calls it, my theme song), dropping more names than you can fit in your hipster Rolodex. Looks like Chris Isaak and I have 4 things in common now. You know what the mountains look like at in the middle of the night? Dark, real dark.  - JD (2/8/05)

Make-out Room vs. Mononucleosis: It is official. I am sick, all flu-y and yuck-y. The only thing I had my mouth on/kissing was a mic and an ice water cut with menthol cough drops. An early show for us, we played first, but the few there were all on it. Josh, my new doctor, tells me right before we leave we have a drummer tonight named Russ. It all comes together, no practice, really well. Russ is a cool man. Afterwards, someone thinks I'm joking when I say I'm from Columbus, Oh but I stuck up for you Capital City, yes I did. Also on the bill was Shawn Smith, the Moore Brothers, and Bart Davenport. Super nice guys every one and another great sounding room where everyone listens throughout the night. Plus, Black Swans sway dizzy and spotted to two nights of consecutive disco balls. Ate a couple tacos in the Mission after the show, mmmmm. Taking all kinds of herbal pellets, dissolving vitamins, lots of candy drops. Yuri and I go to Berkley today to eat salad and window shop at Amoeba. Josh says there will be a fiddler tonight (from long ago Doubters - RB's old band - among others). Fireworks of Chinese New Year woke me up at 8am. Rest up you weary throat!  - JD (2/9/05)

San Francisco Bay Blow-My-Nose Blues: Last night, played to near no one again, but it was still fun. The Ivry Room was a proper dive bar. I waited to eat dinner too late since the Sudafed suppressed my appetite, so when I was finally hungry, my walk led me around a block of closed restaurants. Subway locked its doors as I was walking towards it. I feel like a speed freak. I started getting dizzy, so eventually bought a salt sandwich posing as turkey from mini-mart. Am I an extra in Masked and Anonymous? A couple showed up, the woman thinking I was Michael Gira. Thought she saw me play in Toronto 3 years ago. Yes, my band name is fairly generic, but it is the BLACK Swans, not the Swans. Guess what? They didn't stay for the show. One of the guys from Josh's old band, Our Lady of the Highway, played first, then Bermuda Triangle Service, which was Cynthia and Adam's band who became Black Swans for a few songs. Great people and players. I saw Cynthia play before, years ago, with Alejandro Escovedo. We recorded the show again, but I was a bit off the first few due to my stuffy head cold. Even with the sore my voice sounds real good since I've been mumbling/crooning every night. Though I may have had a few sinus-related snorts through my harps. Going to take it easy today. No show till Saturday, the big Oaklandish party. Even Scott and Christen and Hazel are coming down. Maybe some recording tonight, and rest. You remember rest, it is what the Taurus is doing right now.  - JD (2/10/05)

California Blues: So what did I do with my two days off between shows: blow my nose and walk the streets of San Francisco. Haven't shown my butt (yet!) so I'm no Michael Douglas, even prefer Serpico fashion to sports jacket. Oaklandish show was good, cool performance arts space. Ate some chicken from Chicken and Waffle, but stopped with the bird since my sweet tooth is weak.  Again, Russ joined in on drums, even better than before. Lots of friends were there. A painting of a muscle man with a giant penis hung behind us. Went to Down Home Records (home of Arhoolie) in the morning, suppose to be a record swap, but just junky 78s in trucks. A string band played the parking lot, which was a good way to wake up: bass banjo, jumbo tenor, mandolin. Bought a Rev. Louis Overstreet LP and a Jesse Winchester demos CD. Last show tonight, early evening at El Rio. Very sad, but another new band member will hop on and in. A guy named Daryl who plays guitar, met him last night, making the Black Swans the ultimate folk-rock pick-up band on the west coast. 5 new members in the last 7 days. Watched a Kris Kristofferson bootleg video from SXSW at Mark's brother's house, ate burritos with his family. Tissue time is over now. I'm healed, but my nose is chapped. Once again, don't want to go home. Why? Stretch your wrist and grab a pen.  - JD (2/13/05)

Tower of Tacos: Last show of this tour goes like this: get to the El Rio and the other band playing thinks we're out, no-show. They call themselves Ism and they become the oddest match for a Black Swans billing. An 8 piece band with 4 horns, Rhodes, percussionist, the rest.  Tower of Power, Santana, playing a Donovan song. I wanted to sit in with them, maybe sing Tecumseh Valley via Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, but it just wasn't going to happen. Our set was good again. Tough p.a. but a few showed from our Make-Out Room show, and Mike and Karen Linn. Our new guitarist Darryl is pretty amazing. People thought we were joking about him just hooking up. Great Gary Lucas-style player. Josh and I were happy the whole way home. We recorded it again, so it'll show up on the next field recordings. Oh yeah, we're selling the Seattle show and Yuri's silk screened covers. Second show for Black Swans West already being jacked to California fans. Yep, a cash cow, pumping out the high-demand hits to the people. Tomorrow, fly home. I 'm about to eat a taco. Weep.  - JD (2/14/05)

Delta, Delta, Delta can I help ya, help ya, help ya (while smashing your Gibson in our cargo cellar)?: Tough to leave Oakland.  Recorded some music in Josh's shed till 4 am the night before. Flew away, 6 hours. This time no Friday Night Lights (had nice La-nois-e guitar freak-outs), instead Ladder Travolta, which I glazed over while listening to the on-airplane DJs and reading Harold Brodkey's First Love and Other Sorrows. Never liked fire movies. Layover in Atlanta, changed my gate with reading a screen or asking assistance. Passed half dozen OSU swaggers and knew something was up, so I sat down. Midwest radar. And pouted. Coming home is always a drag. Reality is a big pile of bore. No more out-of-town shows until sxsw in March. Still not sure who is going, but it'll be a good I bet. Must sleep. "Landing in the Ol' Northwest Tour" is over and 3 am is near. Gonna start the Taurus in the morning, have a cup of coffee with Jovan, go to work, try to settle down. Traveling is fun, and so is playing music every night to strangers. No doubt about it. When I walked into my apartment there was shattered glass everywhere on the floor. Someone was jumping on my ceiling when I was away.  - JD (2/15/05)
 

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