Day sixteen (from Kristi)

We're at day sixteen of twenty-five now in the tour and it feels like we've turned the corner toward the end run. Leaving Kansas City was a major turning point.  The Folk Alliance Conference left us with cumulative effects of five days of sleep deficit combined with intense concentration of all the pressures of the international music business.  Reaching the finish line of that week felt like something of a relief to me.  I expect to spend some of some of the long hours in the Ford Escape processing my notes from the conference with my band-mates.

We've had phenomenal weather until yesterday.  Having crossed two thousand mostly mountainous miles, we barely saw what could pass for winter anywhere until it snowed a few inches here in St. Louis.  But we made our way to our two gigs yesterday with no delay nor danger except for power outages from a windstorm, which blackened traffic lights.

Looking back on our performances, I'm amazed that things have gone so well and without a single hitch.  I know the racial statistics in this city are around 60% black but our audiences thus-far have been almost entirely white. I'm guessing it's because of the neighborhoods we've been booked into.  I just take what I can get when I book and frankly don't have a clue as to the makeup of a neighborhood when I research booking leads.  But it's a little surprising to me.

 Greetings from Kansas City.  Oh yeah; it didn't exist eight hundred years ago in my time.

Our hosts in Kansas City made time for us to see the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art on the day before we left.  As much as Steve has his reservations about the elite nature of museum art, we both were captivated for hours.  I still have my own reservations about the appropriative nature of art in museums, but as our host Don said, “it was all stolen fair and square”.  We had performed in South Dakota at a venue next-door to a world-class gallery selling recently-made art from local Native Americans.  It was heartening to have a perspective from that experience of seeing that many of the kinds of art on display at the Nelson Atkins Museum are still being made by Native Americans today.

Looking back on our tour, Spokane was a bright seesaw of emotions for me.  Our venues are so pleased with our performances that they're begging us to return, which is mighty appealing.  Our accommodations were reasonable enough and very comfortable.  The city itself offered sufficient entertainment just walking around public spaces to occupy a full day of enjoyment.  Rosemary Ponnekonti, arts editor of the News Tribune, had done a feature article in the Go section so I had some idea of all the art installations downtown which have been added in recent years.  I was duly impressed.  But I can't stand on the magnificent pedestrian suspension bridge over the Spokane River downtown without choking back tears.  My father, John P. Esvelt, who designed it and was senior engineer for the Spokane Expo ‘74, accomplished so much in his short life and never lived to see the completion of his designs in the Riverfront Park.  Spokane is still filled with the weight of heartbreak for me, even after seven years since my brother and mother died there.  But we will go back to Spokane.

Kansas City here we are . . .

We have been in Kansas City, MO for a day and a little more now.  We arrived here from Lincoln, NE.  The day before we arrived in Lincoln we had a long drive from Rapid City, SD which took us through rural South Dakota and notably the Rosebud Indian Reservation.  I have thought while driving through Wyoming, Montana, South Dakota, Iowa, and Nebraska that we were traveling through areas that were economically disadvantaged.  I sarcastically call those regions part of the great American wasteland.  To tell the truth though, I don’t really know what I’m talking about.  I don’t know how else to describe  what I saw.  I saw a lot of pre fab homes, trailers, yards full of old vehicles.  That said, the most prime property is seldom property that  butts right up to a freeway. 

We have been blowing right through the countryside stopping only to refuel.  We purchase groceries, or anything else when we stop for the night.  There was a point when almost all of the people we saw were Native American.  I thought of what I had read about treaties, and the land that Native Americans landed on after being kicked out of their home territories.   In that context it made sense that the most barren, virtually useless land that we drove through was inhabited by Native Americans.  I'm sure that's not always the case at all, but there is certainly an element of truth there.

When we finished out gig in Rapid City, SD we visited a grocery store.  While waiting in line  behind a couple of apparently Native American women the clerk informed me that we would  be waiting awhile.  She appeared to be quite unhappy, and quite willing to express her unhappiness with the expression on her face and the tone of her voice.  It looked to me like a racist clerk, but that is just me.  I’m quite aware that I see the world through my own eyes and someone else might see the things that I see in quite a different light.  I guess I would have had to see how the clerk dealt with someone of another racial profile to really know.  Maybe she was just having a  bad night.

We have been sharing the driving responsibilities quite well I think.  Gen drove long hours for the last couple of days.  I drove the home stretch into Lincoln.  Kristi drove us from Lincoln to Kansas City.  We are staying in a suburban neighborhood in Kansas City.  When our hostess drove us through the city on Monday night we saw a very prosperous city.  The downtown is impressive with it’s new buildings and layout.  I mentioned on our freeway approach that what we were seeing appeared to be a prosperous city.  We have not seen much of the city, and I don’t know if we’ll have an opportunity to. 

Kansas City was an intense experience.  We got up early, and stayed up late.  We were constantly going from one  event to another or sitting in a room listening to people talk about music biz.  The exhibit hall was for schmoozing.  Gen turned out to be the best schmoozer.  I had my moments, and Kristi was good especially when she could contact a DJ who had already played us.

We had a long discussion today about Ferguson.  We were warned to watch our speed limit and driving protocols closely when we blow through Ferguson the environs.  We’ll do that.  They apparently have made some changes there in the interim.  It has been suggested that if they do not have properly trained officers of the law that they use the services that the county provides.  They rely on the money from fines to run their city.  The social/political atmosphere in this country is quite complex and dirty with state, and local law differing greatly from place to place.  It’s not something that I would normally give a lot of thought to,  but . . . under the circumstances I do.

Last night we ran through our environmental set for our host/hostess.  The host is a real music fan and has a lot of info about Phil Ochs.  I mentioned Simon and Garfunkle and he brought out a  complete collection of their work.  He played a bootleg track from the Beatles Abbey Road and was willing to talk all night about any of these and I’m sure he could talk about others as well. 

We are going to be fully occupied for the next few days with the International Folk Alliance Conference.  I’ll probably have something to say about that experience.  In the meantime we are living quite well.  Our host and hostess are really nice people, easy to engage in conversation, and I might say quite willing to talk about most things.  For my part I’ve barely gone outside except for a short time yesterday when we went shopping.  Today we’ll venture out to the big conference center.  I hope I don’t get lost.

International Folk Alliance Conference

It has been an intense experience to be at International Folk Alliance Conference in Kansas City.  I started this bit of writing before the conference began with the idea that perhaps I’d have some time to write, but I did not.  I have been totally engaged since last Wednesday and now it is Sunday.  It has been late nights, and early mornings for us.  We have been around crowds of people every day.  By last night we were all three of us exhausted but we soldiered through our last showcase.  We have been immersed in music tour business for this conference and it has given us a lot to think about.

I have attended a number of panel discussions about booking etc. that have been quite good.  I'll probably have more to say about that later.  We saw showcases on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.  Sometimes I was disappointed, but many times I saw/heard excellent performances by a variety of artists that I would never see or hear otherwise.  

We shared a table in the exhibit hall with Rick Ruskin.  It was good to see Rick and spend some time with him.  He has been playing with a singer/songwriter by the name of Leslie Evers who is quite a good songwriter.  We went to Rick's showcase on Saturday night, and Leslie followed immediately.  We were all but completely done in by Saturday night, and we had a showcase at 1:50am.  Kristi and I are not the night owls that we used to be.  We did get through it OK and there was even someone there to see us, and who was recording us on his phone.  He didn't leave any contact info, and we have no idea who he was.  The hosts sent us a nice email that we got the day after.

Conference Gen

Setup the booth

Up On the Roof

We had a "firsttimers" showcase.  I think everyone gets one of those.  We got one showcase that was on account of Kristi being a singing female bass player.  The woman who booked it has a house concert series, and she is a bass player.  She even has a Mustang bass guitar like Kristi's.  

Steve, Rick Ruskin, John Jacob (record producer)

Tomorrow we head off to St. Louis where Gen is from.  We’ll stay with his friends and we’ll be playing a concert there.  We have a few retirement home bookings to play in St. Louis.  We’ll get to meet some of Gen’s family which we have not done yet.  We have met Rebecca’s sister and brother in law.

I keep asking myself how I feel, wondering if I should give myself the luxury of an answer.  I ask myself if I should more than acknowledge my feelings, but indeed express them to others.  I often feel that to share feelings is to burden others with the load that is mine, and mine alone to bear.  This is how it is with all of us to one extent or another.  We all have emotional baggage that we must hide in a corner for if we do not we would not be able to function from day to day.  Some of us have more difficulty functioning than others.   As I ask myself these questions I wonder what is more difficult.  Is it more difficult to fully experience our feelings?  Or is it more difficult to hide them from ourselves?  Often the anger, pain, joy, etc. that we feel is the residue of things that have happened in our lives long ago and have little relation to what is happening in the now.

I do find that I lose my ability to hide my emotions as I grow more weary.  In the last week there have been several days of being quite tired from lack of sleep.  I have found myself yakking away unconscious of what I am actually saying.   I suppose that now I’ve got you all confused.  I guess I’ll leave it at that.  I’ve got to get to bed now.  It isn’t late compared to what we’ve been doing, but I must have a reasonable amount of sleep and if I stay up much longer I’ll be unable to do that and get to our destination tomorrow.  

Spokane, Missoula, Bozeman, and Beyond

at the suspension bridge over the Spokane River at Bowl and Pitcher 2/10/16. 

We are in Spokane.  At least we are near Spokane.  We are actually staying in a place called “Nine Mile Falls”.  It is rural enough that it is a challenge to call it a community.  Interestingly enough, I have not been to this part of Spokane before.  On the way to here we drove through the part of Spokane where Kristi spent her earliest years.  It is actually a nice neighborhood near a bluff that overlooks the Spokane River.

Very nice new B and B we stayed in at 9 Mile Falls 2/10/16

I came to Spokane to be with Kristi.  She is from here and she came back here to be with her family after she graduated from TESC.  I made the drive from Olympia to Spokane several times during that period.  Later we came here to be with her family at holidays and family events.  Being here was often quite relaxing.  There were walks in the woods around Kristi’s mothers’ house and swimming in the Little Spokane River.  There were long hours chatting with Kristi’s mom and brother.  I wrote “Go Out to Alberta” here one year when we came down the Alcan highway moving back to Washington from Alaska.  I always find it interesting how selective my memory is.  I remember that Kristi and her mom had gone out shopping and I was home alone at her mom’s house.  I remember that it was one of those songs that came easy and that I instantly loved to sing and play.  We play it with Cosmo’s Dream, and with Cowgirl’s Dream these days as well as playing it as a duo.

I used to tease Kristi about being from the “desert”, which of course Spokane isn’t really.  It is a lot drier than western Washington is though.  One summer we came here to play at the Eagles National Convention which was being held in Spokane.  It was over 100 degrees out and it was the first time that someone gave us a hard time about leaving the door open in the summertime.  It’s usually the wintertime that moving gear can become difficult when people yell at you every time you open the door to bring a piece of gear in from outside.   That was the first year that I had that kind of really hot experience.  We played in Wenatchee that year too, and I remember going to the movies to get out of the heat.

There is a good deal of personal history here.  The fraternal organizations here in Spokane don’t pay enough anymore to justify the trip over here so we don’t see Spokane often.  Kristi’s mother and brother both passed away in 2009 and even her cousin who lived here passed away after that so we don’t have the family connection so much anymore other than memories and the family cemetery which is in Dartford where Kristi spent her high school years, and is a community that was settled by Kristi’s family in the 19^th century.   Kristi was our guide here in Spokane.  She could make good money running folks around Spokane and showing them her hometown.

4017 W. Broad, home of John, Louise, Pete and Kristi Esvelt, 1954-1962.

Dartford home rebuilt after fire, first built by the Esveldts in around 1895.

Dartford home of John, Louise, Kristi and Pete Esvelt, 1962-1975

14126 Rivilla Lane, home of Louise and Pete Esvelt, 1975-2009.

Location of many Esvelts

All of this comes back to me.  For us Spokane is ripe with memories.  We had even played before at the place where we played with Gen some years ago.  As I was driving down Division I suddenly had a feeling that we were going to see Kristi’s brother, Pete Esvelt.  I don’t think there was anything to it except a memory  but it was a feeling kind of memory, not a specific memory.  To me it seemed unusual. 

Our venerable Spokane guide Kristi Nebel on the big slide

View from River Front Park

We have all day to spend in Spokane today.  Right now it seems to me that it is easier to write about someone who you don’t know anything about than it is to write about someone who you should know a lot about.  I have always figured that you have to guess what people are thinking and feeling judging from your own experience.  There has to be a bit of honesty or else your observations become irrelevant. Unless people besides yourself are engaged, or moved by what you have to say what is the use in saying anything.

We are actually in Rapid City, South Dakota now.  From Spokane we drove to Missoula, MT where we played at a retirement home.  After we played (they totally love us at these places) we visited some friends of Gen's who were part of Big Sky Mudflaps.  We played some music with them, which was fun and Dave told stories and Beth showed us her art studio where she creates ceramic art.

Location of a very nice lunch in Missoula 2/11/16

We have been staying in Air B&Bs.  

our digs were in the lower level though we were welcomed upstairs from where we enjoyed lovely mountain vistas

Morning Gen in Missoula

 Here's the Air B&B that we stayed in in Missoula.  

The next day we drove to Bozeman.  It wasn't too far.  We played at Norris Hot Springs that night.  There was a pretty good crowd in the hot springs, but they were not very attentive, or at least that's how it felt.  On the other hand it was a trippy place.  There were a lot of young folks and a few families.  There were some skiers.  At the top of our set the parking lot and the pool were full of people.

A view out of the plastic dome/performance area at Norris Hot Springs 2/11/16

A view of the dome from the outside at Norris Hot Springs

We played in a geodesic dome which you can see in this photo.  It was warm, but we were quite separated from our audience.  You can see our view of our audience through the plastic  barrier above.  I always hate to leave my sound to someone that I don't know, but in this case there really was not much choice.  It was windy and cold outside and if you got the door opened, the wind immediately blew it shut again.  Also they had the amplifier hooked up to a couple of small outdoor speakers and it had to  be rerouted to a couple of larger speakers.  



 The next day we had to get up early and we were on the road by just after 7am.  We drove from Bozeman to Rapid City, South Dakota which is where we are now.  Today we drive to Lincoln, NE.

WYOMING by Kristi

There don’t seem to be many states where you could find a home where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play.   From my passenger seat of my Ford Escape, Wyoming appears to have that potential.  We saw at least seven herds of antelope and two herds of mule deer.  The barren rocky hillocks have their own stark beauty.  I haven’t driven this road since 1981 but still see much of the same character in this state.  At the rest stop we see an information sign boasting of her latest mining boom of methane gas.  She proudly proclaims it to be clean burning.  We in Tacoma have different thoughts about it.  We then stop at a gas station in Gillette with a name inspiring me to wish more women would buy and name them.  It’s the “KUM AND GO” Gas Station.  Later, as we watched the BNSF coal tanks roll past we wonder if they’re taking it to Tacoma.  The state still after 35 years retains its look of a home to temporary mine workers.  The treeless hills are littered with mobile homes around every town.  Wyoming remains a place for mostly testosterone-drenched carpetbaggers from my view.

Wyoming

We are in Lincoln, NE.  I think I said that already.  We stayed with one of Gen and Rebecca's friends last night and will be in Kansas City, MO at the end of today.  I'll try to say more later.  The next few days should be relatively calm after 6 days of moving on.  

Kristi came up with the idea to make this video.  Gen shot it, and I watched.  Oh, I guess I was given a  bit part.

Kristi was our tour guide in Spokane yesterday.  More to come about that big adventure.

Steve N.

Cosmo's Dream - First Day - Steve says . . .

It's Tuesday.  I only know that because we were going to leave on our tour to the Midwest on Tuesday and we have left.  As Gen's song "Plastic Heart" says, we are "On the road!".  We have been anticipating the worst in weather, and whaddayaknow?  The day was like a day in late March.  There were the remains of recent snowstorms on the pass, but the roads were bare and dry.

We got out of bed ridiculously early this morning . . . 4:45am.  Kristi's first words were something like, "I thought you set the alarm for 5?"  It turned out that we really did need the extra time if our scheduling had been accurate in the first place.  What it turned out to be was that I had time for a nap at the B&B before we went to our gig.  On the other hand I think I really needed the nap and would not have if we had gotten out of bed at our usual 8am.

We listened to a Willie Nelson memoir on our way over.  I've got to say I don't envy him a bit after listening to him talk about his early days.  It's not that he had such a horrific time,
but just the same I don't envy his early years being a starving musician.  I usually am in touch with the reality that most people wouldn't change places with Kristi and me either, so I guess that it's in the perception of one's life.  I'm sure he had a lot of fun.  I know we have enjoyed life a lot in spite of our material challenges.

It was genuinely great fun singing with Kristi and Gen today.  I'm really looking forward to the rest of these days on the road.  Tomorrow we have two gigs in Spokane and then it's off to Missoula, and then Norris Hot Springs.  It's bound to be a great week.

Gen is the guy with the smart phone.  Kristi has a semi-smart phone and I have a stupid phone which will run for two weeks without recharging the battery.  The smart phone records the journey in digital pics and video.  Gen needs a selfie stick though.  He does have pretty long arms though, and did get a selfie at our gig.  Look at the blog and see his pics.  You can also see them on the Cosmo's Dream Facebook page which you should like if you haven't already.  Stand by for more blog as we head for Montana.

Big Sky Blues Tour - Day One

The first day of the big tour brings us over Snoqualmie pass, through the fog, past the Columbia River, and on to Spokane, the town where Kristi grew up.  Here are some photos on the road and after our first gig.

Second-hand Memories

     It took some time for the impact to sink in after I broke the guitar.  First we both had to have a mutual fit of anger, blaming one another, the object that fell on it, and then ourselves.  We were loading gear into our car for a gig at the Eagles and I bumped a heavy music stand which fell on the D18S Martin guitar cracking and denting its curved side.  At first I wanted to ignore it, while we finished the job, then with dread I looked at the head-stock and saw it was the beloved old acoustic Martin.  I said, "I didn't break your old Martin, did I?"  Steve picked it up, and showed it to me, saying, "You sure did.  It's useless now.  I'll have to throw it away."  And then in a fury I began to hurl invectives at his music stand, threatening to smash it to bits.

The guitar is burdened with second-hand memories.  We all hoard our second-hand memories and protect them along with our most valued possessions.  Whether true or not, we religiously believe in them because they came to us early in life from unimpeachable sources.  Mother, father, husband, and in-laws wouldn't lie to us about such things.  Much like the stories on the graveyard totem poles in Kitwancool, British Columbia, they're not necessarily fit for the ears of the general public and are sometimes embarrassing as well as unsavory.  So it is with the guitar; you'll hear only part of this story.  But that guitar will be thrown out over my dead body.  And when my tears began finally to fall I wondered why I was the one crying and not Steve.  And when he saw my anguish he wondered why he was the one who felt guilty for the incident.  In truth we were both to blame.  He shouldn't have left the guitar out of its case in that crowded little corner of the garage and I shouldn't have bumped the music stand.  We both quickly recovered from our anger and decided to keep the guitar.  We'll decide what to do with it later.

   

So why in the world should I be crying, I wondered.  The memories were from stories told over and over again both by Steve and by his mom about the guitar.  They’re not my memories and it’s only a guitar; not even one Steve plays anymore.  Then I had a flashback of my mother’s second-hand memories that brought tears to her.   One day, two years after my dad died, she watched and wept while the house my grandfather grew up in burned down.  My great-grandparents were among the two founding families of the town, and this was the last remaining house from the original town-site of Dartford.  It had been occupied by renters and had been in pretty run-down condition as I recalled from my adolescence.  So I had very little attachment to it, not having shared as many second-hand memories of that house as Mom had absorbed so deeply in her soul and her consciousness.  Now I could understand her tears as she thought about the work put into the house by the hands of the Dutch immigrants before they raised their nine children in it.

The guitar was purchased in 1971, a few months before I met Steve.  He was in recovery from his military service that summer, and his mother was somewhat perplexed by his behavior.  She told me he was not showing a lot of interest in finding a career or in much of anything.  He had come home from Germany having left a guitar behind though and that seemed to be his only interest.  She did have considerable concern for his mental state after serving a tour of Viet Nam.  So for his birthday she set out to buy the best guitar she could find.  Someone told her the Martin Company made the best and that she could find them in Seattle from a dealer named Phil Tafoya down on Rainier Avenue, quite a distance from her home in Arlington.  So she went there and in her own inimitable manner made an impression on him as he also did on her; I’m sure she told him all about Steve’s need for this very guitar and I’m sure he convinced her it was the only one for him.  Phil Tafoya was famous for decades among guitarists as having the only dealership in Seattle authorized to service the warantee on Martin Guitars.  

Now comes the part of the story most cherished.  On July 28^th Steve regarded the big case in front of him with interest and pleasure.  He opened it and thought “how wonderful; I’ve got a nice new guitar.”  Then he picked it up, held it in his arms, and strummed it.  The most stunningly resonant sound he’d ever heard from a guitar came out of it and in that instant he knew his mom had chosen a very fine, expensive guitar.  And so began a love affair that was in full-swing when I met Steve.  On the evening I invited him to my dorm room at The Evergreen State College he serenaded me with songs he’d written on it.  I was smitten.  As our relationship blossomed I had many occasions on which to wonder whose affections came first with Steve, mine or the guitar’s.  Eleanor had chosen the best therapy Steve ever found in his recovery from his years in the Army and it was that Martin D18S with a classical neck.  Eventually we decided it was too expensive to risk taking out on gigs so it was replaced with a Washburn, and then with a Garrison which he now uses in acoustic settings.  Like violins, acoustic guitars gain value and resonance with age so it’s still a fine guitar though the neck isn’t as comfortable to play on as his more recent guitars.  I think that guitar can be fixed.