Good morning good morning hello hi how are you missed you. Sorry about yesterday. I am now returned and (mostly) recovered from my two-night, two-city show bender featuring two of my best dude bro friend dudes. It was lovely. A+ time all around. Exhausting. Going out into the world takes a lot out of you. Air travel does too. Especially when you’re paying for it yourself and it’s not a work trip.

How bout that Susan Collins huh? Turns out she’s completely corrupt and they were going to start an FBI investigation until Trump got re-elected and gutted the FBI. Cool. cool. What do we think this will do to her polling? One point? Two points? Jesus.

And I am very sad about Gavin Newsom folding like a drunk 50’s businessman’s newspaper on the train with the Paramount deal. Just utter garbage. I don’t know why, but I am unreasonably depressed about this one.

But I guess we’ll just talk about rock shows today.

Show one was Son Volt at the amazing, wonderful Haw River Ballroom in Saxapahaw, North Carolina, with my old friend Nick. I took notes. Even though I was not on an edible. I am not always inspired to take notes at shows, but this one I was. I do not know what that means. Maybe it means I was bored. Who could say.

I haven’t seen Son Volt in like 30 years, really just after the great schism that shook the alt country world and Uncle Tupelo broke up. Nick was the guy who got me into all that. I guess you could say I became more of a Wilco fan than a Son Volt fan because I was drunk and depressed and so was Jeff Tweedy but that faded as the years went on and Tweedy got more sober and less depressed and I got more sober and maybe just a smidge less depressed. Might be team Son Volt now. Or I thought that early on in the show. Says right here in the notes.

Jay’s got this ageless thing going on, mop of a head of a hair, dark sunglasses, doesn’t move while playing, doesn’t do any banter. Kinda reminds me a little bit of Anton Newcombe Junior from Brian Jonestown Massacre or, really, the Ramones. Just stands there.

I have seen bands from the early 90’s come round again and age into their thing and have a gravitas to them — I felt this about Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, who, like Son Volt, were trying to do old people music when they were young, and now that they’re old, it works way better. I did not feel this way about Son Volt. I dunno, man. I guess I need some banter.

And shit, man. They got LOUD. So loud. One of the loudest shows I’ve been to in a while. Sounded great at first, but it kept getting louder as the set went along. I don’t know. Not, like, they played louder songs. Maybe a coked up sound guy or something? By the last song — a Tom Petty cover that shoulda been quite enjoyable — it was well into the deafening and painful region. I’ve seen quieter Merzbow shows. Whew.

There was a middle aged polycule that stood single file, a man on each side of the woman, maybe as protection, but really just looked like a polycule sandwich and was real weird.

And I don’t know what they were protecting her from because the crowd was basically geriatric. I mean straight up one of the oldest shows I’ve been to. The crowd was older than at a Dylan show or a Gillian Welch show or any other old fogey music. Distressingly old. I mean Jay is just in his 50’s, so I don’t know, man. We got shushed for talking during the opener. OLD PEOPLE.

Got worried for a while that they were not going to use the giant disco ball at the Haw River Ballroom out of some coolbo pissy shit and I am telling you right now if you play there and do not use the disco ball I will abjure you like in Twilight. I cannot remember who abjured whom in Twilight, though. But luckily they used it, once, during the encore. That is fine. once s enough.

Nick called the current music of Son Volt “Country Built to Spill” and I think that is about right. It had a real meandering quality to it. Maybe like a Neil Young jam.

Nick does not like Gretsch guitars and pointed out that Son Volt had “too many Gretsches” and you know what? He’s got a point. Something a bit too spiky on those things.

Before the show we saw a dude in an Anders Parker shirt and I am pretty sure I made his day by pointing it out and complimenting him on it and having a nice talk about Space Needle and Varnalaine — two bands I have talked about extensively in the GMHHAY chronicles. I love making someone’s day about their band T-Shirt, man. It was great. Also saw a dude in a Spiritualized LAGWAFIS shirt and pointed and nodded and he gave me the thumbs up so you know, that was so cool and I feel alive and old dudes in band t-shirts are the best.

Speaking of shirts, lotttaaa dudes in beer brand and brew pub t-shirts. I have now coined the genre “brewpub rock.” Son Volt is brewpub rock.

Join the GMHHAY slack! Reply to this email and ask for an invite if you’re a human who likes chatting with other humans about topics such as these within!

Listening to Goldfrapp’s Seventh Tree this morning. Pulled it from the archives months ago to listen to and forgot to. I have a nice pile of new records from Nick but I will get to those later. I am blissing out on Allison and Will’s pastoral groove thing right now. Underrated record. Two of the singles – A&E and Caravan Girl — are unrivaled, perfect pop songs. Just perfect.

Nick and I both got up at some ungodly hour, I took Jane to school, Nick and I met at McDonald’s like two old men and it ruled and I ran into the entirety of Sean Murray Grading, the people who did the excavation at our storage facility, and shot the shit with Sandy the owner and finance lady, with whom I had a very long intense business relationship with for a while there. I felt like a real salt of the earth member of the community it was great. I don’t secretly go to industrial shows, I’m not a leftist what are you talking about.

Then I headed to the airport, flew to Boston, took the T to Davis, got a burrito, walked home and passed out for three hours. Woke up, got delicious thai delivery, said hi to my boarder Constantine and Jussi and then Sean and I headed to the Wilbur theater for Cabaret Voltaire.

Moving on to show two!

Wilbur Theater is a fine old venue but it was set up like for a comedy show with little cocktail tables n shit and was entirely wrong for Cabaret Voltaire. But we lucked out and sat next to our friend Kenny.

Great crowd, amazing crowd, so many old friends faces in the room, people I hadn’t seen in twenty years, just wonderful. Also an old crowd but weirdly not as old as the Son Volt show even though Cabaret Voltaire, as a band, are like 20 years older? Let’s double check that. Yes. Cabaret Voltaire was founded 21 years before Son Volt. Crowd shoulda been older. They were not. Or maybe they just looked younger because they were wearing cool band t-shirts. So many good band t-shirts, man I love a good band T-shirt. There was a guy sitting five feet away from me in a Spacemen 3 shirt, maaaaaan. I love a dude in a Spacemen 3 shirt. SO handsome.

Cabaret Voltaire were awesome, A+, no complaints. Complicated history of membership, started out with three dudes, one of them left, then another, the third dude kept the band name for a while, then died, then the other two took it back and toured? I guess? I don’t quite follow it. It never really mattered to me, I liked the creative output of all the fellows involved in any iteration.

In 1993 I did a road trip with my sister and friend Mike and we probably went to thirty, forty different record stores across america, and at every one of them I looked for the same record: Cabaret Voltaire’s “Don’t Argue” 12-inch single. Eventually found two different pressings - 12RX 6157 and 12R 6157. Different covers. Different mixes. Found one at Wax Trax in Chicago, one at Stinkweeds in Phoenix. I don’t know why I am telling you this, they did not play “Don’t Argue” but it was still awesome. They played everything else you’d expect like Sensoria and Nag Nag Nag and Yashar and 24/24 and and and.

Man it has gotta be rough to have spent the Thatcher-and-Reagan-addled 80’s conservative fever dream warning the world about a dystopian future with fascists and goon squads and a surveillance state, and then get pretty big making that music, and then having to, like, watch the world become exactly what you warned about and then, like, going on tour in that new horrible world and having to play those songs and be like “we told you so now we are all fucked” but also you need to tour for some money and health care and you’re in your 70’s and it all fucking happened. I do not envy people in that position.

But man I sure wanted to dance to it. The show really should have been across the street at the Royale.

Was awesome to see two of my good guy friends I shoulda really gone to Northampton and seen Doug and gone to another show there that woulda really completed the trifecta. Middle aged men. We hurt we ache we cry we make poor health decisions while we try to get healthier, we worry about our children and our future and the president and try to not do stupid shit that men inevitably tend towards. It is a trip. It’s good to get a little time with another one who’s known you for a while. Bro therapy.

Jane actually came and hugged me when I got home, which was lovely because I had that usual post-drinking guilt thing going on where I feel like I had an affair or drunkenly ran over someone with my car or something when in fact I just went to Highland Kitchen for a bit with Sean and went to bed. Emma went off to “curriculum night” at Jane’s school and kids were sort of not welcome to that so I stayed home and we did a daddy bedtime and it went very well even though Jane acted completely crazy at bedtime again it really is something. But my being away for a night had softened me and I played along, letting her turn into a kitty for 20 minutes and fake-fighthing me to get dressed, and letting her read to me about black holes. It was lovely. I love my daughter.

I do not have any playlists ready so enjoy this video of Don’t Argue by Cabaret Voltaire.

This makes three musical artists I have seen in the last month with Vs in their name. I like this.

Until tomorrow, friends.