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Henning says: The five of us were all waking up from the same dream. A new ice-age had started. Freezing blasts of whiteness were blowing down through Canada. The front reached the Great Lakes and picked up speed and force, blowing icy-snow sideways across the flatlands of Indiana.

Zoom down from a satellite image of these enormous lakes and land masses. Zoom down through the clouds and the mass of whiteness. Zoom in closer on a stretch of highway moving horizontally along the southern coast of Lake Erie. Closer still onto a loan white mini-van blowing back and forth being while being battered with streaming snow and wind.

There we were, the five of us, inside this van in APRIL, driving, as fast as felt was safe, past cars that had carreened off of the white-washed road. We were tired from a short not-so-sound sleep and a little spacey from no breakfast-yet. The music was the only solid thing to grasp on to as 18 wheelers sped past, throwing walls of snow and cold onto our windows.

And then we woke up.

We busted across the border of New York, leaving the lake-effect behind us. Harry Nilsson was singing about New York City, the volume was up, a patch of blue sky broke through the clouds, and Ken exclaimed, "I love music."

.....

Henning says: CLEVEland. We pulled into CLEVEland under a veil of darkness. From a past drive-through, I knew that there was a beautiful and really great lake just off the road to our right, but the night-time made it impossible to see.

Our hotel was just off the highway and only a block or two away from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I've never been there (Ken and Brian both had) and I've been told, by our good friend Jose Ayerve, that a band can get in for free by providing a CD of their music. But it was too late at night and the fancy place was closed.

I probably would have enjoyed exploring it a little. I have no interest in seeing artifacts of musicians behind glass. I don't care if I am in the same building as, say, Mick Jagger's lip balm. I just like museum-type places. I enjoy the high ceilings, the movement of the air, the dark lighting, the carpet on the walls. Lots of times when I am in a museum, I spend just as much time enjoying the presentation of the exhibits as I do with the exhibits themselves. Being in a museum is like being inside a work of art sometimes. I dig that. I'm into that.

CLEVEland from the ninth floor window of the hotel, looked pretty dismal. Grey and greyer. We were right outside the airport, but I didn't see a single plane in the air. I'm sure the city is much nicer than it seemed. There must at least be pockets of greatness. Who am I to try and judge a city on a few hours spent looking over a two block radius. What a jerk. It was cold and grey in CLEVEland while I was there, does that mean that it is always cold and grey in CLEVEland? Of course, not. Don't hate me, CLEVElanders. I'm re-opening my heart to you. Forgive me for giving weight to my instant judgements.

.....

Brian says: My take on the one-show tour?
I second Ken's exclamation of "I Love Music!"

my back doesn't yet like wicked long car rides, but it's not horible.

I like seeing meteor showers--I saw something, then it was hidden by trees. The rest didn't see anything and I convinced myself I was crazy. But there was a meteor shower that night. At least I didn't think it was a crashing airplane like the dozens who apparently called police.

I like partying with Spouse in the Chicago hotel room. Like JJ said, "crazy that we have to travel all the way to Chicago to finally hang out" (JJ and I are both busy drummers)

I like stumping Ken when listening to music. Yes there were a few "who's this?". Not as many as I asked him though.

I don't like "The Almighty Hawk"--the freezing and overpowering wind that attacks you in Chicago.

I like nothing more than being on stage and rocking for an appreciative audience.

I like the people who make up the bands The Fawns and School for the Dead.

I like Henning's marathon driving skills.

I admire Tony's ability to sleep as often as a cat.

I like when singers from other groups tell me they're in love with me after seeing me drum.

I like watching nature shows in the hotel with Bezo.

I think that's all for now.

.....

Henning says: Chapter Three:

Chicago. Chicago is a ways away from CLEVEland. It is tall and blue sometimes. Last time. But, this time it is misty and grey and the choppy really great lake is darkish green and looks colder than the North Sea. The road twists and turns along the shoreline, pressed between the city and the sea, and Lesa's playlist churns along with the traffic and waves.

We follow directions and find ourselves on the Loyola Campus. The parking lot for WLUW is right on the coastline. The tall rectangular building we are going into is stretching up into the rain clouds. The vertical lines in the architecture criss-cross with the paths of the sideways rain. We duck and cover and drag our guitars inside.

We are greeted nicely and pack ourselves into a small waiting room / office. We take off coats and pick songs to play. On the other side of the wall, a Canadian band's drums bash and wollop.

Next, we're in another room, this time tuning and standing while microphones go up all around us. We're ready for a short acoustic performance. First the Fawns play, Make Me Sad then School for the Dead plays Disgruntled Lover and Photobooth Curtain. We're not wearing headphones. It feels great to play. Feels like a living room concert.

When we finish, we all scamper into the DJ booth and do a short interview. I answer all the questions. I'm not as funny or engaging as I want to be, but it's not terrible. Hopefully, we'll get a recording.

We're done with appointment number one, now we have nothing until the next day. We have a free night in Chicago. What will we do?

A call comes in. It turns out our good friends touring in Spouse are hanging out in Chicago that night as well and we agree to get dinner together. Ken knows a place. However, the drive to the restaurant destination proves pointless. The grub is locked safely behind saw horses, multiple cops, and streaming throngs of Chicago Cubs fans who are just vacating Wrigley Field.

We make some calls, we find a hot-spot and ken logs-in and find directions to another retaurant of the same owner. When we get there, Spouse is waiting already. "So, you're the Chicago Kevin." I say to Kevin O'Rourke who is playing bass with Spouse. "Yes." He replies.

We get a table for eight in a bustling room full of italian waiters. Everyone enjoys their dinner, but it knocks us out. We discuss where the evening will take us. What does the city have to offer eight touring musicians on a Friday night? I suggest that we break into Wrigley Field and chew Dentine Gum.

The Fawns/SFTD troupe head off to check out our Hotel. It turns out to be in the middle of nowhere. But, it's nice. On the way in, we spot a local bar with Karaoke. Dare we? Turns out, we don't. Instead we spend the evening first at the strange hotel bar and then the Spouse boys come up to one of our suites and we have a little hotel party. We'll have to come back to Chicago again sometime. When it's not cold and rainy.

.....

Henning Says: Chapter Four:

Chicago. I woke up Saturday morning to the sounds of Lesa and Brian watching TV in the other room. We had a suite, so yes, there was another room. It was a great relaxing morning. No need to rush. Good power and consistant heat in the shower. Well done, Sheraton.

We drove into the city by way of a Dunkin Donuts Bagel counter and found a parking spot directly in front of the club. "Open spot in front of the club. You know what that means," said Tony. We all knew. In general, that means that the venue is empty. But this time we also knew that it was just barely noon and the club wasn't even really open yet. So, no worries.

As we pulled into the spot, coming out of my crazy mid-town u-turn, a taxi pulled in front of us and dropped off four folks with guitars. Ah, the International Pop Overthrow.

The famous Gunther Murphy's is a pretty nice place. It's long and kind of welcoming, with a seperate bar room and a seperate performance room. We brought in our stuff and then warmed up in front of the fireplace. Yeah, they had a fireplace. Yeah, we warmed up in front of it.
Soon enough, in walked David Bash, the man behind the I.P.O. You can always tell it's him because he's wearing a hat. He's wearing a hat right now. I'm sure of it.

The Fawns were the second act scheduled for the day and I expected a crowd of no one except the other bands. As we were setting up our stuff (we can set up most of our stuff before the show even begins because the first act is just a singer and guitarist), though, I looked up and saw some people paying the door man, some others milling around. Good.

The first act was a girl singing and a boy strumming. It was her first time performing.

By the time we took the stage, there was a decent amount of people in the room. We played a super energetic set. I think being cooped up in the van so long gave us a little extra umph. Umph! The Fawns!

People really seemed to dig us. We sold shirts and CDs and I could feel that the audience was not quite ready to be done with us when we stopped. Keep 'em wanting more, though, right? Yes.

A Boston band called Din played between the Fawns and School for the Dead, but the sets are so brief at the IPO that it seemed like no time at all until we were heading back on the stage.

School for the Dead also had the umph. The sound system was really great and everything felt perfectly comfortable to me. We got a very good response from the very-well filled room. Ken, of course, did an amazing job with both bands. The rest of us just seemed really happy to be playing again. I think the crowd picked up on that. We also sold a bunch of shirts and discs. The set seemed to fly by in seconds. I really didn't want to leave the stage. But we did.

And soon after, we left the club. It was time to start driving home already!

We swung by a record store and Ken ran in and grabbed a few discs. I took my contacts out in the van.

Ken had asked the record store grrrl for dining advice and she recommended a place just around the corner on the way to the highway that proved to be hugely awesome. Best meal of the trip. Good iced-tea, too.

After eating, we hit the road. We were hoping to get as far as CLEVEland again, but after a couple hours of driving, we hit the snow. It was dark, it was snowing sideways, 18-wheelers were whipping past, we were tired, and we were making fairly slow progress on the icy-roads, so I pulled off in the middle of nowhere and we found a Motel 6 with very reasonable prices. I used my Motel 6 card and saved 10%.

The Motel was a bit seedy compared to the Sheraton the night before but I didn't mind. I was glad to be protected from the howling wind outside and to not have had to shell out another couple hundred bucks.

Lesa, Tony, and I headed over to a trucker-diner nearby while Ken and Brian stayed back at the Motel in seperate rooms. The diner was pretty cool. Classic. The food ended up making me incredibly sick later on but, in-the-moment, I very much enjoyed the experience.

Later, back at the hotel, Brian was heard to utter, "I wish I was a big fat animal with a small head." while watching a nature show about badgers.

The next morning was rough, but we had a lot of road to cover and we sucked it up. We stepped out side to find the van plastered with snow. Not covered or anything, but battered.

Next thing you know, we were waking up from a dream, listening to Harry Nilsson and busting over the border into New York State.

.....

Notes from the road

Henning says: Hello from Holiday Inn Select CleveLAND. After a long comfy ride in a jukebox on wheels we are winding down to Letterman and Vending Machine Snacks. Brian, Ken, and Lesa all had their mp3 machines working overtime on the ride and we listened to a shuffle of great music for most of the day.

Tour.

The instamatic superhero external thermometer that juts out of the roof of the minivan cabin sank down in one degree increments as the day passed. Now here we are in cleveLAND on the edge of a really great lake with winds whipping in the forties (and I don't mean large bottles of beer).

A short trip to the hotel bar found us downing three rock-tour-cocktails while the bored bartender repeated loudly all the things that she heard on the tv. She squawked like a parrot. But flew like a mailbox.

The vending machine is in the basement but it refuses to acknowledge dollar bills so if you don't have a fist full of quarters don't even bother with the elevator ride down. And by the way, the dollar twenty five waters from the ninth floor vend are insultingly little. Upon the surprise lack of heft of the bottle I exclaimed "I hate Cincinnati!".

Forgive me, Venus, sorry Johnny Fever, your C-cities are melting into one. I'm no geologist afterall.

See you tomorrow in Chicago, if we don't drive into a really great lake, we'll be on the radio at 3:00-ish. Tune in live at the website for WLUW (I don't know, just google-it, lazy bones).

Henning says: Hey, guess what? There's an hour difference between Massachusetts and Chicago. So, when I said we are on the radio at 3:00, what I meant, of course, was 4:00, your time, if you are in our home turf. If you are somewhere else in the world, I don't know, you figure it out, we're in Chicago, in a radio station office and it's nearing 3:00 and that's when we'll be doing our thing. Three.

Besides that, it's cold and rainy and Lake Michigan (which I am told is a really great lake) is green and swelling dramatically and crashing over breakwaters and being all bitchy.

My head is a little swimmy from the driving and the not yet eating lunch, but I don't care. I'm in the studio of a little independent radio station in Chicago and it's a Friday afternoon (our time).