After hours of mouse clicking, amp hefting, song crafting and ankle biting, we finally took the plunge and left Provo.
We call our vessel the Big Boy.
Here's some cool things each of us brought:
Tony: FM transmitter for iPod: Big Boy does not have a CD player
Hillary: Triple A (we've already used it, read on)
Spencer: After the Revolution (book)
Aaron: R Kelly "Bump 'n Grind" mp3
Tom: Polaroid camera
We finally hit the road at 11 pm, stopped at Spencer's parent's house in Mapleton for a band family-style goodbye complete with motherly concern for our safety, treats for the road, and goodbye hugs. We also have a roadie, Cradam. He's being nothing but awesome to us.
At 3:30 am, one of Big Boy's tires blew up. What??? Not even kidding. Luckily Hillsy has Triple A, so after one of those awkward speakerphone conversations with the operator, ("Can we get a spare?" "What?" "Can we get a spare?") they sent a tired technician out to save us. It's kind of fun being in a huge van while it's getting jacked up and down.
We got into St. George at the break of dawn and crashed right into bed in Spencer's condo. It's got that 80's luxury feel, so we feel pretty pampered. We also feel pretty pampered by our fans; two of them left goodie bags in the fridge for us.
Cradam and Aaron drove to find a tire in the morning. While we were waiting for the tire at Albertson's, these wedding guys stopped us and said, "Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but do you know where we can find a gold thong?" We racked our brains to think of all the thongs we had seen recently, but unfortunately none of the thongs we could think of were close to St. George, and they were all used anyway.
Meanwhile, the rest of us soaked up some heat at the pool. Aaron made German pancakes for lunch, and after all the rest and recovery, we played our first gig in a park in downtown St. George.
We had a diverse crowd, mainly Cradam, but later a hispanic family stepped up to the plate and batted us in for the home stretch of our set. There's nothing like playing under the summer sun in a public park. There's a cool duality between adults, who are generally avoiding the obvious live music going on right in front of them, and their children, who are leading their parents right to the music. Maybe we should start writing more kids songs.
More later. Sleep tight. Hold on to yourselves.
