I Live at my House

Saturday, July 31
On the way down to Eugene (where we play TONIGHT) we stop in Portland and have lunch with my brother Dan Eichler—yay!!!

We zoom onward to Eugene and soon enough the True Margrit band is convening with Andrea and Joey at Rogue Brewery consuming delish items like beer, Kobe burgers, reubens, and more tater tots. Mmm, tots. Thus fortified, we walk down the block to our venue, Luckey’s Cigar Store. Teresa (who heard us for the first time last week at the Rock Bar gig is there, having driven down from Portland --which is so very flattering! The New Mexican Revolution kicks off the night with some hearty, excellent, quirky-rock-meets-Americana in the family tree of both Tom Waits and Nick Cave—nice! We especially love the tune where bassist Emily picks up her trumpet and performs a super pretty brassy fanfare. Oh yeah.

The NMR finishes their set with a flourish and we pop up to the stage and roar into a set. We are egged on to new heights by the crowd--particularly by a dude doing some dancing that includes furious pogo-hops, jumps, skips and general arm-flailing. It makes me feel that Eugene is very hospitable—I feel quite at home.

After a few songs he inquires politely:
“Are you gonna play that songs about bruises to your ego?” I gape for a moment—he’s quoting my lyrics!

Finally I answer:
“ Oh, right, oh yeah, ‘Syllable’! Totally. We are definitely playing it!”

He says:
“I heard it on Snap Crackle Pop on KWVA. It’s your best song—but I love them all, so far…” I high-five him by way of thanks. SWEET!

We continue onward, making the Luckey’s stage our home away from home. We slam through our set with full-on rock forces, playing well past midnight. After the show we sell some CDs to various folks, our friends Andrea & Joey take off, we meet the crazily dancing guy (James B) who announces that we are now his favorite band. YAY! I LOVE IT! I give a CD to David Gizara from KLCC who wants to play “Make then Beg” on his jazz show—nice! A great night!

Gary & Andrew head back to Marc’s, but I hang at the bar with my bud, Brad E (a brilliant guitarist--and part of Luckey’s bartending staff). I’m going to crash at his place, so I chill while they close up shop. They are just about to shut the doors when it is determined that a woman, we’ll call her Mabel, is passed out on a couch in the dark. The staff tries to get her to her feet, but to no avail. Not to be defeated, a rolling office chair is produced and Mabel is wheeled out to a waiting cab at the curb. Brad and I opt to go with her to make sure she gets safely home. But alas, Mabel is not able to conjure up her address. When asked where she lives, she can only muster:

“My house!” Hellfire. The cabbie does indeed remember her former apartment, however, it appears she has moved--and to where, it unfortunately remains a mystery. After a few stops around Eugene, some of her close friends are located and she is bundled into her homies' waiting arms and we speed off into the night. Well—what’s left of it.

For, as I finally lay head to pillow and drift off, I hear birds a-stirring and there’s a distinct lightening of the sky.