Not To Disappoint

Well we’ve been rather slacking recently (Basically since Denver.  Actually we were never tremendous at doing the blog, but look for the book, because that might happen.)  But I digress from the main purpose of this blog post, to inform you, our loyal reader, who checked out this blog even after we hadn’t posted in over a month.

So once again we find ourselves on the road.  This time we’ve been led to Portland, Oregon.  It’s good from what we’ve seen.  Yesterday we stretched out on the floor in Eugene, OR staying with a house of collegiate musicians and other charismatic kids.  While they urged us to go to the Country Fair, we simply couldn’t, or maybe it was more complicated and we didn’t feel the need to spend $60 to get in the door.  So we just didn’t go.  Sixty-some thousand people will have to find our myspace in order to get their taste of this trio.  It’s difficult for us to spend money to play somewhere when we could just play somewhere else for free — We found out that the parking lot would have been a less expensive alternative.

Instead we played at two rival markets, the Saturday Market and then across the street at the Farmers market.  It was fierce, let me tell you.  Well in terms of produce and organic foods it was fierce.  We played a rousing set at the Saturday market and then walked across the street to the Farmer’s market and played a foot stomping line of tunes.  After performing for an hour or so we finished up and set about getting lunch.  Luckily for us, a group of lonesome, starving, poor musicians, we were offered free food from both the hideaway bakery (a baguette!) and some goods from the Mexican food stand (a quesadilla!)  Both were delicious and filled the small hole in our stomachs.  We’ve found that music is a good trade in a moneyless barter.  At most of the bars where we’ve been we play for a couple hours for dinner and beer.  A fair trade, but in the long run, not a great way to move up in life.  

After deciding this we set to the road for Portland, a bustling city seething with opportunity for a (handsome) group of young musicians such as us.  Portland is cool.  That sums it up.  Lots of young kids.  Hitchhikers and skateboards alike.  We parked, walked, and explored until news of the nights evening rang on our cell phone.  Before discovering the entertaining evening to come, we found Voodoo donuts, a bakery establishment boasting a donut with with a slab of bacon on top.  One word describes this stroke of creative donut making: delectable.  It helps that it was a maple-frosted pastry.  I would eat it again.

A refreshing beverage couldn’t come soon enough after our donut adventure.  Luckily, Fortuna is on our side at the moment.  We always seem to be stumbling upon some feast or fantasy along our voyage.  This past night it was both.  We found our way to a small home in the ‘burbs of Portland with a teasing rhythm sounding from the back yard.  As we turned the corner and went through the fence this music hit us in the face.  We were at an Old Time music get-together and potlatch.  It wasn’t directly coincidence that we drove down this street and stopped at this house and wandered (as the wandering white river trio typically does) around the back of this house.  Instead it happened that we went to Telluride, CO, decided to straighten up and perform on the main street after a brief respite, and found a good bluegrass mandolin picker.  His name was Stavros.  He played for a while and then we met up with him later on down the street at the old time music demonstration. (Old Time music is different than Bluegrass just to inform you.  I’ve been learning that more and more myself as we get further into this music scene.)  We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways only to meet up again here on the tremendous Portland Old Time scene.  So it was this good fellow who led us to the hootenanny last night.  There was dancing, there was food eating, beer drinking, and even a little live music.  At several points half of the party guests were playing songs on the built-in half pipe in their backyard.  It was truly amazing.  The fiddles (all 7 of them) sang like a section of the symphony.  It was a melodious orchestration like none that I had experienced before outside the classical realm.  Beethoven would be proud.  And hopefully inspired too.

Our Western Arrival

Well it’s been a while since we’ve had the time and gumption (and patience) to start up Justin’s and computer and type a new blog entry.  Thanks for staying loyal.

Yesterday we arrived in Los Angeles.  However getting here has been an experience.  Our previous entry took place at or around Coors field.  From there we headed to Boulder by way of the Coors brewery.  We had some of the best beer-flavored water ever!  (Coors sucks)  We did fortunately imbibe some tastier fluids whilst in staying in Boulder, CO at the Mountain Sun Micro-Brewery.   They had 16 of their own beers on tap!  But I digress from our voyage of musical exploration.  We found great success in Boulder.  It’s a town bustling with bluegrass-lovers, and especially a homespun variety of that, mountain grass.  We set up on the Pearl St. Pedestrian Mall at an appropriate distance from the other performers.  Honestly I’m surprised that no one was playing there the entire weekend besides the trio; it was a slightly elevated ‘stage’ complete with “flatirons”, like chairs, for the audience to sit on and listen to our harmonious voices.  We played Saturday night, and then again 3 times throughout the day on Sunday.  It was just too good.  People seemed to be really enjoying our music.

We met some very kind people in Boulder, as we have with most cities we’ve visited.  After eating a ‘half-fast sub’ (say it fast to understand it) we received a phone call from a Boulder local informing us of a vacant lot across the street from her house in a new development.  We didn’t immediately rush there to go to sleep in this exposed field of weeds, but first we haphazardly ran into Nick, a young man, our age, who was thoroughly enjoying his 21st birthday.  We walked several blocks with him (he admited his love to every good looking girl who passed us, picking up their pace as they received his check mark of approval and ultimately arriving at their final destination moderately sooner than they would have before).  After he joined up with some other bar goers we departed to find our place to sleep for the night.

I can’t say I’ve ever felt more homeless than this: sinking low behind the weeds as cars passed by, waking up with the sunshine at 6am, being entirely exposed once the light came up, finding ticks on our legs.  It was not pleasant.  But for a group of ‘homeless’ kids we did have some good sleeping bags, as I imagine all homeless people have in Colorado.  It was decided we were going to have to step it up.  We couldn’t been sleeping in abandoned lots and risk getting in trouble as the church crowd rolled in.  We didn’t want to be like that.  So after packing up our few items from our slumbers we got in the van with new ideas and new standards.  We went to the local mall and slept in their parking lot until the bakery opened up.

Leaving Boulder, we decided that wherever we went it had to be an improvment.  Boulder was just too good.  We decided to get lost for a few days in the Rockie Mountains.  We gave Wendy the Whale a little exercise and probably some good exfoliation for her feet as we off-roaded our way, 5 miles, up to the 4th of July Campsite.  It was magnificent.  It was majestic.  It was hard to breath.  We rested, cooked food, galavanted, and hiked up to 11,800 feet just past the continental divide.  The pictures are on facebook.  Well actually they might not be.  We’ve been having a good amount of difficulty uploading pictures lately…Justin’s computer is pre-civil war era I believe.

After camping the trio reemerged into the world anew.  We were fresh.  We were feelin’ good.  We refreshed a little more in a small internet cafe in Blackhawk.  There we indulged in a quesadilla and a speedy shave in the public restroom.  Once again, feeling even that much better, we departed for Brekenridge, CO.  We were all certainly looking forward to being in Breck because  a nice friend, Marnie, helped us get a gig there for the night.  I’m going to have to be brief here and finish this up before we leave for San Francisco.

So the Breckenridge brewing company was fantastic.  We stopped in for a meal there and each of us had an amazing hamburger.  We also had the opportunity to enjoy their Vanilla Porter fresh from the tap.  It was an experience like no other.  After evading the ever-too-common food coma we climbed the surrounding mountains and did something even more unbelievable — practice. Yes ladies and gentlemen, the Wandering White River Trio has practiced.  We only did it because we wanted to be able to play this good tune, New Railroad.  It’s good.  Honestly.  It’s worthy of practicing.

Our performance that night was fun.  It was spot on.  Things were slow at first until the night crowd came in.  Then it heated up.  We left at the end of the evening with a six pack of their awesome IPA and a sense of accomplishment.  We did a serious encore.  And they had to coax us into it.  We were finished and they begged.  Women threw themselves at us.  Men jostled us.  Children got down on their knees and begged.  Bartenders essentially offered us ever-flowing beer and spirits.  Being the good-hearted gentlemen we are, we decided we had to do something right and stop this tomfoolery for everyone elses’ sake.  So we played more.  There was blood on my finger board.  Our vocal cords were plucked.  After a rousing encore, we finished and called it a night.

On the next adventurous episode with the Trio, Aspen and Telluride! Enjoy.

Onwards and Upwards,

The Trio.

The Trio visits Coors Field

“Well I knew the Rockies were a team. I just didn’t know for what sport,” Chris argued as more and more of his lack of sports knowledge became apparent to the rest of the trio. The Rockies were indeed more than just a mountain range.

It was a night on the town for the trio. After a pre-game street show on Blake Street, some white river music took a break. With our gentlemanly yet talented scalping skills, we were able to see the sporting event for around 2000 United States cents. Dressed to the nines once again, possibly even the tens if humanly possible, eyebrows were raised as well as multiple random conversations which is always a fun time with the trio and with  a little help from our dearest friend Jerry. More on that later.

It was quite a hike finding our seats. On our travels to higher parts of the world/ball park we began to contemplate our negotiating skills with our fellow scalper on the street. Once we made it to the apex of the park we realized we were still 100 sections short of our labeled ballgame viewing area or in layman’s  terms section. Was it fake tickets? Were we in the right part of the park? Were we being led into a trap only to find our grim demise? Sorry to move you to the edge of your seats, but actually we were on the wrong side of the park. B was the correct answer. B.

Upon sitting, we were greeted nicely by a group of coeds involved with the enjoyment of the spectacle, not so dressed for the occasion to our standards, yet nevertheless a nice group of folk. Although throughout the event we noticed that they were spitting sunflower  seeds at each other. A sort of conceived game with the range of fire mainly taking place from male to female and reciprocated evenly. We contemplated a sort of Western Rocky Mountain mating ritual, but it may have been due to poor eyesight and judgment with the involvement of a brew or two or eight.

The trio found the game very interactive and enjoyable. We helped out on the wave every time whole-heartedly. From our seats one could almost tell there was a baseball game going on! And the seventh inning stretch! Oh the seventh inning stretch. After stretches, accompanied by the rest of the ball park, we joined in singing “take me out to the ball game” a tradition at Coors field. In three part harmonies we must have only left the rest of the Rockies fans impressed or bewildered.

We are not sure which team actually defeated and conquered since we left to set up for our post-game show, but it was quite a night for the trio. Followed by scattered storms and scurrying back to the van to dry our instruments.

Onwards and Upwards,
The Trio

And now a Haiku

The Rockies play ball.
Baseball that is you dummy.
Chris is bad at sports.

The Trio Gets High (5260 ft.)

That’s right folks the trio currently finds itself in the mile high city — DENVER!  After a maximally superb taste of Southern hospitality we decided to try out the Western hospitality.  So far the outlook is very positive.  Little Rock, especially our good friend Jeff and his pal Fred treated us well and welcomed us into his family.  There will probably be more on this later as we tell tales of the generosity we have encountered thus far.  After a refreshing stay in Little Rock — the actual shower (compared to our previous bathing experience in the Tennessee River) surely helped our spirits, and our presentation — we sought refuge in the wilderness for two nights in the Ozarks on the bank of the Buffalo River.  Life couldn’t have been much better for us.  We relaxed, cooked some pleasant meals, socialized with other campers like JT and Ethan (we went on a 2 hour night hike) and Captain Jeff, the camp host.  The majority of the daylight hours were spent hunting and fishing.  Unfortunately to the chagrin of our ever shrinking stomachs, hunting rabbits with a log (like Bear Grylls!) and wading in water with a bamboo rod to kabob fish is not the most effective approach.  Luckily for us, Jeff kindly invited us up to his camper, the fun finder, and fun was found.  He grilled up some brats, cooked some beans, and served some cold beverages with ice!  There was another friendly couple there who brought along attentive ears and probing questions, and delicious red beans and rice.  After chatting for a while about our adventures, we performed a brief show for them and they were more than appreciative.  Our dancing, staccato sounds vibrated into the leaves above with looming heat lighting accenting the notes in the not so far off sky.  The night was cut short as the winds picked up and the storm moved in.  We sheltered ourselves with a thin layer of nylon in our tents and woke up mildly damp the following morning.  Captain Jeff showed us off and once again we set to the road up North where we eventually found the cafe in Harrison with its convivial waitresses and hearty (inexpensive) breakfast.  You know half a grapefruit and granola with yogurt might be a healthy and fortifying meal, however it’s a lone guitar player competing against an orchestra of flavors and stick-to-your-ribs goodness that is pancakes, biscuits and gravy, eggs, bacon, and sausage.  Of course we didn’t have all of that heart-stopping splendor on one plate, but it’s certainly a strong team to compete against.  From Harrison we continued North to the college town of Springfield.  It was slow going and we kept it that way.  The trio wandered around the city and decided to educate ourselves on the world around us.  So we spent a couple hours in the public library reading newspapers and magazines,  but of course only after cleaning up in their restrooms.  That’s one thing that we’ve learned: take advantage of the liberties and standard technologies that are typically taken for granted when living in normal society.  A shower is one of the greatest things ever now.  A meal consisting of fresh food, food that doesn’t necessarily come from a can or a box, is a joyous event.  Simple things become wonderful.  I think there’s really something to say for removing yourself every once and a while from modern society and seeking fulfillment in something simple.  I recommend a plate of pancakes followed up with a piping hot shower, maybe even an old movie in the evening.

                                                                                                                     ~~~

So after reading through the magazines with photos of the American West we quickly decided that that was where we should be.  We would remain in the Mid-West one more night and then flee across the ocean of land in Kansas to Colorado and the Mountains.  The trio aired out our wet tents on our car, doing our best not to appear as wandering vagrants.  We then dressed up in our fancy attire and introduced ourselves to the kind people working the coffee bar at the Front Porch Cafe in downtown Springfield.  They let us take the stage for an hour of impromptu musical entertainment for their few, captive customers.  A Friday night is typically a better night to perform anywhere, but we told jokes and played our fingers off.  After the show the trio met up with one of the only police officers who has helped our wandering.  Officer Kerley showed us to P. Murphy’s, a blues bar with the wise, erudite Dr. Bob running the performances.  He has a tremendous mission in life and a solid passion for music.  He’s not going to let the stupid, drunk college kids get in the way of good music.  Not to mention the all-star lineup he’s hosted at his establishment.  We shot the breeze and explained to him our path we’re carving through the country and left.  Some nice college kids, like us, gave us a place to sleep that night in Kansas City.  They were good hosts, providing us with some simple food and some classic N64 entertainment.  We packed the van the next morning and headed out to the prairies of Kansas.  Around 8 or so we arrived in Denver and played the socks off of the folks at the 16th street pedestrian mall.  They were dancing and clapping and certainly enjoying our music.  And even more, they stuck around.  The Cohens are currently hosting us here on their ranch and with our success in Denver and the hospitality of our hosts here, we might stick around too.

 

Onwards and Upwards,

The Trio

Road Trippin’

Trio finds itself in the Ozarks. stop. Camping was intense. stop. (In Tents). stop. Those we met in Little Rock were as generous as ever. stop. Harrison Cafe is friendly and warm. stop.  Trio calls Moms to inform them that we’re still living after several days outside of cell phone service. stop. Rolling on to Kansas City today. stop.

Wandering Minstrals….or Superhuman Musical Wundershowzen?

Ah yes the Wandering White River Trio has hit the road.  We were seen off by our Trio of crying mothers just yesterday before leaving for Louisville.  To say it was a successful evening of entertainment would be an understatement.  It was a spectacle to be reckoned with.  The road to Louisville was brief amongst the trio as our excitement and anxiety fueled us on.  Our arrival in this ‘bustling’ town was not foreseen.  The crowds didn’t come out to welcome us immediately.  Navigation by using the location of the mighty Ohio enabled the trio to find fourth street with ease — the location of our aforementioned busking habitat.  After changing in the Trio Superwagon!, dressed to the nines, we took to the streets and almost immediately encountered our first honorary cohort, Chris M.  He was a man with connections, a big roller in the town of Louisville.  He’s currently working on opening his own dining establishment, Cozza at Felice Vineyard.  He helped us on our way with a near performance venue (We later decided it was not a superb trio locale; the beer pong tables would have gotten in the way of the cutting of rugs that would have obviously occured.)  We moved down the street, outside the jurisdiction of the mall cops of 4th street live, set up our scene, and found that crowds were not far off.  Almost immediately as our voices echoed between the buildings bystanders made a b-line in our direction.  And were they gracious.  We sang songs and spoke of our forthcoming journey: a roadtrip across this nation.  A small percentage of the audience even harmonized — and with the trio being a sucker-for-the-sing-a-long — they received much laud, and appreciation from the trio — an exemplary aural pleasure!  So, in 3 words, last night was….a true joy!

Onwards and Upwards,

the Trio

The Trio Thanks you for Listening

We really appreciate all those who have housed us, fed us, cleaned us, and donated to us, enabling our journey to spread music and good feelings to the nation. We could not have done it without you and the list of names is endless.

This week. We would like to thank our parents for being supportive of a not so tradition job setting.

Cheers,
The Trio

Hello world!

The Trio decides to edit its first post instead of deleting it and creating a new one. This was thought to be more time efficient. Although, the overal necessity of this current post seems a bit… well… not necessary.