Random mutterings and foregone conclusions

Well, as Luna Schlosser said,
"longtimenosee, longtimenosee". I apologize for my absence, but it's supposed to make the heart grow fonder, right? (though my ex-girlfriends might have to be outliers in that thought experiment). In any case, here I am, and here we are. Hope you've been well, I've had this pain in all the diodes in my left side, but otherwise I'm OK.

Anyway, on to business. HJ has been hard at work cranking up the machine for our really big shew No 19 at the Freight and I think you're really going to like this picture. We're trying to figure out what to do with Joe Craven and Stevie Coyle (which feels a lot like asking yourself "what do I do with these" when she tosses you the keys).

But, we are professionals (according to the IRS) so soldier on we must. We'll think of something. In the meantime, we've got a handful of new songs we (hopefully) will be performing at the Freight for the 1st time, except for a dry run at our favorite country store with a full bar. Come by Sun Oct 16 and watch me make a bigger fool of myself than usual, since a bunch of the songs are mine (but don't you dare come south on Hwy 1 from 1/2 moon bay, or the pumpkins will eat you alive). Just because I can, here's everything you need to know for a rich and fulfilling life experience.

Let me leave you with something entertaining for a change of pace. Check out The Comics Curmudgeon when you get a chance. The funny papers are a lot darker than you might think.

Pizza out.

Henry

"Well, I'm back", he said.

Hello to you and yours. This is Henry, using the editorial "we", just so we all know who to blame here. I'm ensconsed in my Comfy Chair at home, looking for something to do besides weeding, and thought I'd thow out some free(as in beer, not speech)-association on our recent jaunts.

As you can tell from Chris' previous post (The $1000 Taco, which I highly recomment [the post, not the taco]) things got off to a rather theatrical start. But once we were all safely arrived in Hartford, the Jewel of the East, things settled down. We found a microbrew(so I was happy) sports bar(so Peter was happy) nearby that kept the 2 of us going with our respective needs. Chris, as is is wont, enjoyed the house-made root beer whilst cheering on the Red Sox to victory over the hated Yankees.

But, there was work to be done. First off to a little Universalist Unitiarian (henceforth UU) church where the congregation sang us under the table, then a hop to WWUH (91.3 on someone's dial) where our hostess with the mostest Susan Hansen flogged our upcoming show at the Concert In The Park in Ridgeway CT as hard as she could (thanks Susan, it felt good!).

And then, New York, just like I pictured it: skyscrapers and everything. We played Kenny's Castaways in the Village, a nice little joint famous for having bands in the 70's play there before they were famous(Aerosmith! The Smithereens! Steel Mill!!!). We got the coveted 7PM Monday slot graciously given up by the Disco Sticks, and thanks to Chris' relatives the audience barely outnumbered the band. Chris reported he saw someone had written on a wall in the neighbourhood the name "Lou Reed" and underneath it someone else had written "yawn..." (oh how sharper than a seprent's tooth is a thankless child...).

On to the aforementioned CITP! This went well, a good crowd and many happy children high on sugar spinning in front of the band. You may have seen the video Kathy took on our web site, reminded me of my own Brisbane Community Festival my wife and I usually play (Oct 1 noon, be there!).

Then on to Western New York. The Club Helsinki in Hudson is a great place to play. One of the partners, Cameron, from our times at Mama Hillybeans in Tehachapi CA has his C3 there which made Travis so happy, brought back memories of his days in a soul band in Germany (seriously, ask him about it sometime...). Then, Woodstock, which is pretty much a Ye Olde Mill Valley. We had a small but enthusiastic crowd at the Colony Cafe (enthusiastic enough that someone actually called the cops on us). More hippies than you can shake a Thai stick at.

Then, one of those routings that makes being On The Road entertaining. Over to Eastham Cape Cod to another UU chapel (over 100 years old, but holding up better than I will) then kazam back to Western New York to finish up at the Town Crier in Pawling NY. Phil the owner is a serious mensch. We got to have the gorgeous and sweet Carolann Solebello (formerly of Red Molly) open for us, and she graciously brought an audience to share with us. Thanks, Carolann, they were very tasty.

And there you have it. I left out a few things such as Benny, the Littlest Conga, in the name of the soul of wit.  Ask us about it when you come by to see us sometime. Next time I'll cover our trip up to the Kate Wolf festival with that internation man of mystery, Stevie Coyle, which was more fun that should be legal. See ya in the funny papers. Oh, and the first few folk who knows where my post title comes from gets a copy of my new album _Everybody_Digs_Henry_Salvia_. My people.

The Thousand Dollar Taco

When my wife Jane and I decamped recently from our home in Oakland to the Gold Country, we knew there would be advantages and disadvantages.  One advantage was the reduced likelihood of interactions with young persons with handguns eager to negotiate the transfer of personal property under terms adverse to the present possessor.  The disadvantage would be a certain logistical inconvenience.  An easy call, you say.

So, in anticipation of the Houston Jones East Coast tour, because I would be traveling with my upright bass, which necessitated obtaining a flight case the size and weight of a Middle Kingdom sarcophagus, some advance planning was clearly in order.  The plan was that Jane and I (with, as is customary, Chance the Dog for company)  would pick up the travel case for the bass in Oakland, stay in a hotel close to the airport, the morning of the flight she would help me wrangle the bass to the odd size baggage window, and off I’d go.  An easy call, you say.

The first brooding omnipresence on the horizon was a violent eruption at my day job minutes before I was scheduled to leave, the consequence of which was that I would be hauling an additional 30 pounds of ballast with me and spending my free time on tour with my laptop rather than frolicking with starlets and throwing furniture in the pool with my band mates.  The second sign, although we did not know it at the time, was the call from Jane asking if I wanted something to eat—she was getting 99 cent tacos. 

Tacos declined (by me), sarcophagus stowed, off we went to the hotel. Law and Order limit reached, Chance gently snoring, lights off, all is well.  Until it wasn’t.  Having spent a year in the Middle East as a child, I am not unfamiliar with food poisoning.  As of 2:00 a.m., June 3rd, as evidence would suggest, neither is my wife.   

I will be discrete here.  Suffice it to say, it was obvious that I was not going to be able to leave as planned.  The airlines were happy to reschedule my flight to later the same day --for a  $150 penalty and the difference in the ticket prices. Which is to say their sympathy would cost me $600.00, and they would  book me on the redeye. 

The plot at this point was thickening, because Houston Jones had a gig in Connecticut the evening of the 4^th—I was now going to arrive in Hartford the late morning of the 4^th, and presumably stumble to the gig.  That was fine; I have considerable experience as a stumbler. 

The malign intelligence of food borne bacteria had a different idea, though.  Jane, contrary to my expectations, was not getting better; she was, in fact getting worse.  Chance the Dog, for whom the universe is confusing in the best of circumstances was now utterly bewildered at the transformation of his beloved mistress.  And so, it became obvious that the redeye was not now an option either, and I would need to call on the sympathy of my friends at the airline once again.  And miss the gig. 

That transaction negotiated for a comparatively minor fee (but not without peril—the agent initially cancelled not only my redeye flight but Peter and Henry’s return flights as well; they would have been stranded in Central Connecticut when they tried to return next week), we spent another night in the hotel (ching, ching, goes the cash register).  The incidentals associated with the 99 cent tacos were now edging past four figures.

The next morning, Jane was able to remain vertical long enough to bundle her into the car to drive her and the confused dog back to Sonora.  The new plan (I laugh hollowly now at the use of the word “plan”), was exactly the plan we were trying to avoid in the first place:  I get up at 3:00 in the morning, drive from Sonora to SFO, unload the sarcophagus by myself, move the car to long term parking, wrestle my remaining luggage (now with the 30 extra pounds of ballast) back to the terminal, and then go through the normal indignities and inconveniences that we all enjoy now in the modern era of air travel. 

So that’s what I did.  Jane is recovering. Chance is presumably snoring.  I’m on the ground in CT, headed to a radio interview and then to NYC (!).  And this is to say nothing of the incident on the last leg of my flight, which involves 50 AFLAC employees coming home from a company retreat in Cancun, stuffed geese, and a woman from South Boston commandeering the flight PA system. 

Purchase Queen of Yesterday

Houston Jones is proud to announce  its latest Summerhill Records release,  Queen of Yesterday.  Working once again with 5 time Grammy nominee Cookie Marenco, Queen of Yesterday was recorded live in the studio on two inch tape  with minimal overdubs.   The new CD captures the hotwire energy and telepathic interplay of a live Houston Jones performance in a pristine audio environment that brings the listener almost literally into the studio as the music is being made.  Long time musical shape shifters, with  Queen of Yesterday, Houston Jones struts its Americana roots like never before, from grinding blues to post-bop jazz to raw boned country to the most delicate ballads. A varied and nuanced collection of songs exploring the theme of loss with, by turns, wry humor, exhilaration, anger, quiet reflection and anguish, Queen of Yesterday is Houston Jones’ most sophisticated and ambitious offering to date.