The Shows

johnathan crawford on drums; photo by chris ford

Saturday, October 29, 2011Public Space One,  Iowa City, IA w/ Tom Comerford.

I think I stopped in to Gabe's around 6pm, not feeling too excited about the evening. Probably the usual pre-show jitters. Two or three drinks and an hour's worth of Gremlins and things're looking up...ish. Met Tom and his two cohorts at Thai Flavors before the show. We had food and chat. There were murmurs coming from the back of the house. How did they know I'd been drinking? What the hell did it matter? My money spent as well as any square's - I knew it, and they knew it. Tom was telling us about Bill Fox when the checks came. Outside, students loped across Burlington Street like extras from Island of Lost Souls. The wind crept through the crack in the door and shook the beads hanging next to the cash register.  Anyway. I personally love playing PS1 but it can be a struggle to get people to show up. Despite this fact, we managed to attract a few hearty soles. The rest of the band assumed we were first, which amused me so I let it slide and thus happen. My low E broke halfway through "Bone", so I switched to theremin. Tom and his band do a sparse, country Velvets  thing that puts his dry drawl front and center, so y're getting the gist and then some. Master of the Chinese throwing star, too. Afterwards, we hung out at the cheeseburger bar with someone's smug uncle.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Thursday, November 3, 2011
Blue Moose Tap House, Iowa City, IA
w/ Lipstick Homicide
Teenage Moods

What the hell? Where a man is seen in terms only of his utility. The (latest) cocaine usage spike, come and went. What's left are witchhunt alliances and the elevation of the mere, of dead eyed joylessness, and of having nothing to say in the least interesting way imaginable. The subtraction of oneself from such proceedings is essential. The next step would be to find a way to add value to 'free'. Any ideas?

This may have been the second-to-last gasp of the Old Winding River band, with just drummer Josh and myself.