So-Cal heat wave. Lestat’s is a neat venue: a small room with old theater seats and a marquee with red and black letters. I play all the new songs I have been saving for a real listening room. It feels like exhaling a deep breath.
I play the two new ones I have written on a guitar my friend Simon helped me make. We call it the “B-tar”, it’s 4 strings, tuned to some kind of open B flat tuning right now.) My beloved nephew who is a college student at UCSD is in the audience. I’ve known him since the day he was born. He has just lost his father to a long fight with cancer, strangely enough we both lost our fathers at the age of 24. I play an early song written about this particular kind of loss. I am not sure if it is the heat, the tension in the room, the events of the week, but I feel over whelmed and almost dizzy with the energy, like I may swoon.
Touring forces music out of it’s comfort zone. It tests it’s strength. “There is no such thing beneath the heavens as conditions favorable to art. Art must crash through or perish.” (Sylvia Ashton-Warner) Even in the face of extreme weather, emotional distress, poverty, sleep deprivation, lack of food, a broken heart or tired soul — music prevails. In an instant on stage my feet grow roots, my head is a crown of light from the sky, and the moment envelops me — shot back into my body and out of body all at the same time. I have a sense of the organism that I am; shuttering like a host body to this mystical and delightful process. I do the drive home alone, pushing my little rental to the limit up the 5. San Diego to Marin, 10 hours, 3 bathroom breaks, Led Zeppelin turned up to 11.