Tour was so busy and fun-filled that it felt like I didn't get to take any pictures. Kyle was making a toast to the band during my last blog. Kezia and I had just landed in Detroit and we were partying up in the hotel room, getting ready for our first shows as a real four-piece.
Our first was in Ann Arbor, MI at The Ark, a great little theater that we jam packed full of Julia Nunes fans. One thing that I was looking forward to in Ann Arbor was the greatest burritos in all of the world, courtesy of BTB, a late night hotspot for most U.Mich students. I didn't remember the name of the place, so I called up my good friend Patrick, a school year Ann Arbor resident. What a joyous surprise, PATRICK WAS IN ANN ARBOR YESSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSS yessssssssssssssssssssss.s..s.s.s...
Julia got a few gifts in the merch line last night, including much U.Mich Wolverine garb, a stuffed wolverine, a serenade from a fan, a neck pillow, and an oil painting. That last one went nicely on the back bench, and I'm happy to say it made it all the way through the tour in one piece.
After the Ann Arbor show, Zach did some light raging by himself. Displeased with our partying skills, Zach grabbed a wine bottle and ran out of the hotel to find people who really wanted to party. Realizing that it's both dangerous and illegal to run around in public with a bottle of wine, our Tour Manager Kyle took to the van to track down our inebriated drummer.
After doing a few circles around the premises, we were relieved to find Zach lying on his back on a patch of the grass, gazing at the stars.
"Man...look at all the stars...it's not like back home. You can see the Big Dipper," he mused.
Zach then returned to the hotel room and proceeded to throw up.
In the morning, he was back to his shining self, laughing his ass off at clips from Rookie of the Year.
Red Roof's terrible wireless caters to Zach's porn addiction.
The next day we blasted down into Indiana. It was a cautious blast, as I'm very weary of the state of Indiana. Dark times there. But also, some really awesome fun-filled times. I can say this much, though: the people of that state are a special breed.
Everyone that came out to the show at Radio Radio were just the best. Zach, Dana, and I hung out by the stage after the show, and we were surprised at how many people walked over to say hi.
We didn't spend a long time in Indiana, as we needed to get down to Tennessee in time for Bonnaroo. We stopped to rest in Nashville, as Julia had a dinner date with Mr. Ben Folds and his family. The rest of the band kept busy downtown with some frozen yogurt that costed $10 a cup. (They were big cups, to be fair.)
After punching Ben's wife in the face (it was an accident...) Julia and her crew piled back into the van to get some rest. The next day: Bonnaroo.
Bonnaroo could best be described as summer camp for grown ups. Granted, the grown ups sometimes acted more immature and incapable than most 10-year-olds, but we'll blame that on the brown acid.
What can I say about Bonnaroo? It was a hot mess. 96 degrees everyday, 100% humidity. It was hotter than two rats humping in a wool sock. I originally resolved to not shower for the duration of the festival. I quickly cast this idea aside when I woke up covered in sweat and three forms of fungus growing in my armpit.
The showers didn't even help, really. You just didn't stop sweating, ever. Even after a cold shower, you maybe had the walk from the showers to your tent before you started sweating again.
Our first performance was on Friday, the first show of the day at This Tent. Even when we pulled up, there was already a crowd gathering.
By showtime, the tent was packed. More people than I'd ever played for, all lined up and eager for us. I figured half of them had no idea what they were even about to see. Fortunately for them, we put a pretty good show.
Between the NPR and YouTube livecasts, along with the thousands of people walking by the stage and to the sides, we must have played to over 50,000 people worldwide. And I don't even know what I'm talking about.
It was a rush for me. The best part? Not an ounce of nervousness. I was with a well-rehearsed group, a strong leader, and a professional crew was making us sound awesome. I sang, I played, I danced, all in my cutoffs. And no, Julia didn't make me wear those. (Yes, I do read the YouTube comments.) Short shorts are coming back. Just you watch.
30 minutes before showtime.
Julia also went onstage with Weezer! What?!
It might not have been the smoothest performance, but it was true JuNu fashion: keep moving, keep dancing, keep having fun. We're looking forward to trying that again sometime soon. Rivers, make that happen, okay?
Soon enough it was Sunday evening, Dave Matthews Band was playing, and we were fully ignoring them in the meal tent. Kyle put it out there that he most definitely did not want to spend one more night camping out, so we got our shtuff together and hit the road. So long, Bonnaroo.
You can bet all of the tripping Bonnaroo people thought this cloud was the Armageddon.
I don't think anyone but Zach and Kyle really knew exactly what happened on the ride home that night. That's even an iffy assumption. I dozed off around midnight, and I woke up at various points between then an 7 AM. These are some of my recollections.
- Kyle blasting Kings of Leon.
- Zach blasting various songs from the 1960s.
- Kyle pooping at a rest stop in a door-less stall.
- Kyle being fully asleep behind the wheel for a good five seconds.
- Kyle slapping himself to stay awake.
- Being stopped at a truckstop at 4 AM.
- The trucks kept honking.
- I don't know why.
Zach talked to me a lot about living it up on tour. This could be it, he said. We're all heading into the real world soon. Bills, health-insurance, finding our own places to live. Nothing's guaranteed to last when you're a musician. Bands rarely do Bonnaroo two years in a row. Three? Out of the question.
So we did live it up.
We were in great company, we were playing music, and we got to see some other great bands play.
My merch girlfriend Kez dreams of endless lines at the JuNu store.
So what's next for us? As usual, there is just no way to tell. I eagerly anticipate hitting the road again, because, really, what's the fun in staying at home while there's fun to be had in shitty clubs across the country?
I'll be coming at you soon, in some shape or form. My future most likely looks like this:
Mike's return to The Venetia Fair's van.
But there's a chance it might look like this:
Either way, vanflip.
Get at me on Twitter, or ask me any question you can think of on my Formspring.
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