Lisa Savidge

Tour Journal: Days 1-3

DAY ONE:

Well, this one was a bit strange. The rest of the gang showed up in LA with just enough time to settle in before the first show of the tour, which was nice. We got down to the venue and – as promised – there was no signage whatsoever for us to know where it actually was. Luckily, there was a Jack in the Box next door that was easy enough to spot, and double luckily, I actually found street parking right out front to make load-in a little bit less of a chore. We were the first “full band” of the night, so we were able to get all our stuff on stage before the show began, which always makes things a lot less stressful. No sound check, though, since someone (and I’m not naming names) had forgotten to pack an extremely vital piece of gear and a last-minute run to Guitar Center was in order. Thank god for a 14-day no questions asked return policy.

The place was cool enough, and some press was on the scene – having heard that we were coming to town – but other than that, it wasn’t exactly our crowd. Note to self: If you don’t want to end up on a female singer-songwriter bill, don’t name your band as if it is one.

Still, not ones to be deterred, we dug in and played our asses off – winning over at least some of the crowd in the process. So much so, in fact, that one guy ran up and interrupted us in the middle of the set because he absolutely had to buy a CD right then. OK, I’ll take it. In the end, it actually seemed like the whole affair might have been a good thing, since the industry people we did have on hand commented on how impressive it was that we were able to pull off a good show despite the circumstances. I’d heard this before… The true measure of a band is not the show where everything is just right - it’s when everything’s gone wrong, the room is tough as hell, and they still go out and give it their all. This business is too competitive for prima donnas. Well, at least at the beginning… You can always become one later .

DAY TWO:

After a pretty decent night’s sleep, we ended up going to this little cafe across the street from where we were staying for a nice little breakfast. Then, we still had a little time to kill before the next show, so we headed down to the beach… Ya know, it seems like you’ve got to go if you’re in Santa Monica. There’s a cool little downtown area there, which we checked out for a bit, then went to take a peek at the ocean. We had maybe 10 minutes before we then had to head back across town to get to the show at Tribal Cafe, but it was still nice to at least be down there for a minute.

I-10 was a parking lot (big surprise), but we made it to the venue only a few minutes after the advertised start time – which as it turns out, put us about 2 hours ahead of everyone else on the show. The owner of the place said he’d been in touch with the guy who set the thing up, and told us that he said we should go ahead and set up. OK, no problem… We load the gear in… We wait… We set up… We wait… We sound check… We wait… We monkey around for a little bit… We wait… Is this show even happening? Should we, like, play now or what?

Finally, someone showed up and we figured that now was as good a time as any. As before, we’ve only got one speed, so we just played the crap out of those songs – audience or not. Well, some people did end up showing up, and we ended up hitting the other two recurring themes for LA – 1: Some guy interrupted us in the middle of the set because he loved it and had to have our information right then (apparently he does something in the music biz and had just stopped in for a sandwich – wouldn’t that be a funny story if that actually came to something?), and 2: Some people we’d won over mentioned that it was particularly impressive to hear “such a huge sound in such a small room.” Again, I’ll take it. Kind of a strange groundhog day thing going on.

Afterwords, we hung out to see All Destroyed Momentarily (LA locals) doing an acoustic set that was really, really good (and again, waaaay more appropriate to the setting), and Spel (currently LA, formerly France) also doing an acoustic thing. That last one was really something to see… This guy with this heavy French accent gets up there and plays an hour of reggae – doing a really convincing Jamaican accent the whole time – before wrapping it up with an acoustic guitar shred that would put Van Halen to shame. Hahaha, I guess he saw how we ended our set (Appalachacha, as usual) and wanted to see if he could do the same .

Anyway, all of those guys were really cool, and we had a good time just hanging out and chowing down on some great Filipino grub. Hey, not every show has to be a huge deal… Sometimes a mellow little thing is nice.

Afterwords, we went our separate ways – me to the north, and the rest to the east. I made it through the mountains north of LA as the dusk rolled in, and it was just amazing. Like, one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of scenes. There was this mist hanging low, and everything was so green from the recent rainfall… It looked like what people imagine Scotland being like. For whatever reason, I absolutely needed to hear some Dire Straits right then (especially “Brothers in Arms,” an especially Scottish sounding song), and luckily I had some handy. Just one of those perfect moments…

The green theme continued as I made my way up the 5. I had to refuel along the way, and the scenery was so nice – even at night – that I didn’t even care that much that it cost me nearly $100 to do so.

It was so quiet out there, too. We forget how much background noise surrounds us all of the time until we get away from it, and it’s just stunning when we do. I remember a time in Baghdad that we drove way down to the south side of the base that we’d occupied to check out some old bunkers down there. The place had been utterly bombed to smithereens; a total wasteland to the point that there wasn’t even a single insect stirring. When we shut down the truck and stepped out… The silence was almost deafening, if that makes any sense. I must’ve walked around there for hours, carefully stepping over the rockets and mortars stuck in the hillside, just enjoying the serenity so perfectly juxtaposed with the traces of extreme violence in every direction. There were bullet holes and shell casings everywhere, but for that moment it was the most wonderfully calming place on earth. Strange.

I found a nice little spot to stop for the night, and turned in feeling very at peace with the world.

DAY THREE:

I got up, had a little breakfast, and made my way across the fields and into San Francisco. A national guard unit that had deployed with us to Iraq the first time is there, and a few of the old crew remain. They were doing drill today, so I swung into the armory to see who was around. It was kind of hard walking in there… This was actually the very spot where I’d “de-mobilized” the first time in the bad old days, and that wasn’t exactly the greatest of times. Still, it was nice to see some familiar faces, including my old friend Sobe who’d spent the second half of our first deployment as my 6 o’clock (which is to say that I ran the machine gun on one vehicle, covering 180 degrees, and she ran the other, covering my back). We hadn’t seen each other in years, but there’s a certain kind of camaraderie that doesn’t die after a thing like that. In a lot of ways, both good and bad, it was like I never left – and I imagine it will always be so.

I found a little place to stay in the city – I could’ve grabbed a cot at the armory, but the whole place still kind of makes my skin crawl, so that didn’t seem like a good idea – and spent the rest of the afternoon just walking around and enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery. I found a little park and spent some time there… Just recharging after what was a pretty taxing weekend following a pretty taxing week. It’s this balance you need to strike: This is such a tough, competitive business, but you’re trading in inspiration. Somehow you need to be the zen master and the workaholic at the same time, and I feel very lucky that this trip has worked out to balance those things so well thus far.

My old buddies from the unit will be meeting me soon somewhere in the neighborhood, and I’m sure we’ll spend the rest of the evening tonight telling all of our old war stories again and catching up from the last few years. Kind of like an impromptu high school reunion – if you had spent your high school years shooting people, but still…

Anyway, I guess I’d better sign off to go hop to that. Tomorrow, I’m off to Oregon… Maybe I’ll make it to Portland, or maybe I’ll make it the following day. The trip isn’t ’till Thursday, so no rush. That’s fine, I’ve got a follow-up album to work on, which means I need some more things to write about .

I’ll post a few pics from the last couple of days here…