# 1: 11th Nov: Confessions About A Goldfish John Wesley Harding reporting in for tour diary duty. Also in the car - we've gone for a rather stealthy minivan - Robert Lloyd (mandolin, accordion, most of the driving) and David Lewis (support act on the whole tour.) We are out in support of David's new album For Now, which you may well have, and because I have newly finished my new album and I wanted to come out and play you the songs. This new record has the working title of Don't Look Back Now - this will not be the title of the record, but it came to me in a vision Of D.A.Pennebaker and Nic Roeg, and so I am referring to it as that for the time-being. I don't want to tell you a lot about the record right now as I don't want to ruin any surprises. But I think you're going to like it. It was recorded in London, CT and CA, and has some of my favourite musicians on it. Anyway, you have now opened the tour diary to accompany the Tour For Now. If you are male, turn to page 32 - if you are female, turn to page 67. (That's an idea for next time, an interactive tour diary.) We will provide So Called Set Lists to illustrate the surprising range of the material that we are laying before you - however these are hard concerts to recall - not due to the amount of alcohol we are consuming, but due to the spontaneous nature of the songs we play. It's almost impossible to remember what songs we played and quite when. All requests gratefully accepted and generally not ignored (jwh@armory.com). Not to jinx the rest of the tour, but... so far, so good. Of course in this tour diary, I'll try to let you know some of the most amusing moments ('I forgot to put my trousers on before I went on stage!'), some of the privations of touring ('Today I only ate Fast Food'), my thrilling encounters with other top celebrities ('I saw Jim of alt.country band The Wagner's Lads in the Days Inn bar in Dayton') and, of course, many guarantees that the shows are going terrifically well. Which they are. So I thought that this time around, I would try, apart from all the necessary tour diary classics mentioned above, to let you know the story of the music we are listening to on this tour. It's bound to affect our performances one way or the other. Today we are driving from New York to Arlington, VA and we have listened to: Olias Of Sunhillow - Jon Anderson (spooky, lovely, surprisingly synthy) Soleil - Francoise Hardy (French, sexy, nice package - I'm talking about the cd). Francoise - or rather her CD - was Robert's purchase at the awesome Philadelphia CD store, where I bought the 2 CD set The Dawn Anthology (the story of the English record label Dawn - more on this later, there's some really star items on this compilation), Approved By The Motors, and the new Sun Records Tribute which features many people doing rather tedious impressions of older singers on songs you know very well. The honourable exceptions on this are Dylan and MacCartney. I was even pleased to enjoy the Kid Rock song (believe that if you dare, but it's good I tell you.) We are now listening to: Street Jams Vol 3. (The annoying thing about compilations in the cd player is that it's hard to know who did which song, because you never want to bring the books with you that say what is what. But on this current song, the singer is claiming that his name is Stephen. So that might narrow it down. He has also added that he is 'funking for Jamaica'. But that might have been a national sport for all I know. David thinks it's Tom Browne. Anyway, this means that every compilation becomes an intricate guessing game - 'This is Zapp right?' ' No, it's The Gap Band.' 'No, I'm sure this is the Dazz Band.' 'There was a Dazz Band?' And then I write my tour diary and then the drive is done.) And that's the music that we're listening to right now. Isn't that interesting? Is that interesting? Yesterday, we were listening to this Dawn Anthology - and what a fantastic selection it was. Basically, I bought it because I knew practically nothing about Dawn Records (think England, late 60s, early 70s), except that Mungo Jerry and great Welsh prog band Man were on the label. Though interestingly, none of the big Mungo Jerry hits are on it, leading me to believe that they might have sold some of their more successful material. What finally persuaded me to shell out $15 for the record was that there was a track on it by Heron, which I took to be the band of Mike Heron of The Incredible String Band - and indeed I think he did have a band called Heron at some time. However, this turns out to be a different Heron altogether so I bought the album under totally false pretences. And I'm very glad I did. There's a great track on there by Comus (I'll be looking for their album First Utterance from 1971 - horror folk, I'd call it) but the best, or at least weirdest, thing of all is this John Kongos single called 'Confessions About A Goldfish'. Even the liner notes have the decency to admit that Kongos had, and I quote, a 'penchant for deep and meaningless lyrics'. This song poses some interesting questions about 'mankind' and 'you' and 'me' as it ponders on the existential crisis that the singer's goldfish might be having. Here's the chorus, which David has noticed that he launches himself into with surprising gusto: "Does the goldfish in the bowl celebrate Thanksgiving And can he see me? And if he can, does he think that I created him Just to look like me And does he question the changing of the water?" David has theorised that the implication is that the goldfish does NOT think about the changing of the water - and that neither should we. However, I think this is a complete misreading of Kongos' position. To me, the narrator clearly doesn't want us all to become like the goldfish. David then changed his tack slightly (a lot, in fact) and decided that Kongos was merely throwing out ideas rather than giving answers. But I think this is wrong too. David then theorised that modern society is turning us into unthinking goldfishes and that we should resist this urge. Whatever, we have agreed that Kongos' problem is that he uses language imprecisely (for example, "as potent as a eunuch's dream". How potent is that? Depends on the Eunuch, one must suppose. And think about that title - Confessions About A Goldfish? About? Why About? It's just a weird phrase). After all, if the goldfish could see him, surely he would realise that John Kongos hadn't created a goldfish just to look like him, since even a goldfish can see his own reflection - and I'm sure Kongos himself didn't have gills (like the Kevin Costner character in the movie classic Waterworld). The song, though, does have the added advantage of asking: "Why is water wet? Why is blood red?   And why is Granny dead?" It should also be mentioned that, despite the above, this is a great single. And it makes me laugh a lot. Kongos also had a song called 'Tokoloshe Man' that was a big hit, and another called 'He's Gonna Step On You Again' that was plundered heavily by The Happy Mondays for 'Step On' - so I hope he is still going strong, and that The Happy Mondays made him many large sums of money and that his heavy thoughts have set him in good stead for the troubling future. I wonder if he still wonders about the goldfish. Or if he has worked it out by now. Think about it: do YOU question the changing of the water? Well, you should. John Kongos thinks so, and I think so too. And that's the music we listened to today.	Nov 7th 2001 Brown Audtorium, Cortland, NY Sluts It Stays You So&So Infinite Combinations For An Actress Little Musgrave The People's Drug People Love To Watch You Die Isle of France I'm Wrong About Everything Our Lady of the Highways Every Sunrise Window Seat In Paradise Save A Little Room For Me - Nothing At All Wreck on the Highway
	Nov 8th 2001 Makor, NYC Sluts It Stays You So&So Humble Bee Spaced Cowgirl Paradise Sleeper, Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave Window Seat Our Lady Of The Highways Everey Sunrise Is Another Sunset Cupid And Pyscho The People's Drug Save A Little Room For Me - Nothing At All I'm Wrong About Everything Northern Sky Wreck On The Highway
	Nov 9th Tin Angel, Philadelphia, PA Show 1 Monkey And His Cat It Stays The Red Rose And The Briar Humble Bee The Truth People Love To Watch You Die She Never Talks You So&So You're Looking At Me Cupid And Psycho Our Lady Of The Highways Wreck On The Highway Every Sunrise Is Another Sunset - Bad Dream Baby Show 2 Sluts Pull Infinite Combinations When The Sun Comes Out Isle Of France Save A Little Room For Me I'm Wrong About Everything Sleeper, Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave The People's Drug Wooden Overcoat Still Photo Our Lady Of The Highways Every Sunrise Is Another Sunset - Goth Girl Window Seat Annan Water
	Nov 10th 2001 Maxwells, Hoboken, NJ Sluts Pull Infinite Combinations Ordinary Weekend People Love To Watch You Die When The Sun Comes Out Save A Little Room For Me It Stays For An Actress Little Musgrave You're Looking At Me The People's Drug Our Lady Of The Highways Window Seat - The Speed Of Normal Wreck On The Highway
#2: 12th Nov 2001 Split Personality Blues Jonathan Richman v T.Rex (a Robert Lloyd compilation) Up To Now - Robin and Barry Dransfield The Boot - Fairport Convention At the show in Hoboken, we had a first: a young man in front of me actually mimed the knifing that occurs at the end of Ordinary Weekend. Perhaps you're all doing it to each other in the audience and it's just that I can't see you. But there he was, standing at the front, doing some interpretative movements and at the dread moment, he stabbed sideways with his right arm into the side of his companion. The night before we had some tuneful people in Philadelphia singing along to every line of, practically, every song - and they did some interpretative dancing to various numbers. This doesn't happen very often and two nights running is spectacular. Thank you to all involved. Robert has made some CDRs which feature two bands on each for the 'in-car stereo system'. It's a battle of the bands, but, unfortunately, Jonathan Richman v T.Rex is no contest. It's an unfair match-up. Then we listened to Up To Now, the compilation of the career of Robin and Barry Dransfield - it's fantastic. Strangely enough, Barry Dransfield lives in the old town of Hastings just around the corner from my father so I've had the pleasure of a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive round his house on a couple of occasions. I shall try to get him to play on a future record of mine. The Dransfields were famous folkies in the mid-70s and if you have any of those old English folkie records (Fairport, Albion, Shirley Collins, Morris On) then Barry is likely on there somewhere. Their harmonies are fantastic and the songs are excellent. And though this might be a hard set of discs to find, I want to recommend A Fiddler's Dream (Transatlantic) that has been reissued on CD, by their next band called, simply, Dransfield. It's a really fine record. I was playing it for my mother in Hastings when she said, 'Oh, Barry Dransfield, that's the name of the local violin mender'. And it was he. So I said hi. Life's funny like that. We are having a day off - we've worked hard for you so far. Six shows in five nights and now we have a day off. We drive from DC to Chapel Hill where we shall eat some fine food tonight and then go book and record shopping tomorrow, as is our wont. And as of tomorrow, we have six shows in six nights - so today is the day to gird our loins and gather our resources. We just stopped in Colonial Fredericksburg, where we had a cappuccino. Not that I saw it, but Kirk Swan just sent me the important news that on Curb Your Enthusiasm on HBO last night, Larry David went into a Starbucks and said: "Give me one of them vanilla bullshit drinks". This reminds me that I saw the following thing written in a Starbucks bathroom: "Now that you've taken over the world, would you mind cleaning the toilet?" (David has just pointed out that this could equally be applied to the Exxon where we have just stopped.) Please write the set lists down and send them to me so I can compare it with what Robert and I think that we played. This and reality are often quite divergent. I've been really delighted to be playing some quite unusual songs so far on this tour. Robert has put on a country compilation of yodelling and old timey music - it's great, well sung, good solos, and I like it a lot. Some of it is very funny too - "From The Indies To The Andes In His Undies," by artist unkown, for example (I am not making this up.) But I have to admit that it doesn't really move me. (It's something I can listen to with middling to much enjoyment as it passes by and then would almost certainly not put on again. Which makes it almost perfect car listening, of course.) And that makes me feel a little bit left out because it seems to move everyone else. So either they know something that I don't know, or they're wrong - and I'm not really happy with either one of those conclusions. On a scholarly level, I enjoy it. But I have to say that I actively enjoyed Bob Dylan gently dissing the Harry Smith boxed set theory in the new Rolling Stone (where, basically, he said that far from listening to The Anthology of American Folk Music, he was going to see the actual people playing live in the Village, and then went on to claim, stretching the bounds of reality a little, that, at the time, he didn't really live anywhere and hadn't got a record player anyway.) 'Well done, Bob', I thought. 'That's why I still think you're cool'. Not that the Harry Smith compilation isn't great - it certainly is. But it's dull to see something so lionised. Call me a bitch. Am I the only person who thinks that? I doubt it. What about the other folk music compilations that you can get really cheap right now? I also loved the fact in that interview that Bob decided it was time to take time-out to praise The Kingston Trio (supposedly 'inauthentic'), whom the Harry Smithers would probably disparage. Dylan thought they 'seemed to know what they were doing.' And then there's that sticker on the Harry Smith boxed set that says "This is real Gangsta Folk!" That surprised me too, as you might imagine. I thought that, this was an entirely fictional movement that existed largely in my imagination, but no, Culture has ordained that, whether or not it is actually something real, there is a better more authentic version of gangsta folk in the ancient past. And that's what the movement to roots is all about - everything was better yesterday. Even fictional things. All your troubles seemed so far away. But now it's nothing more than the man ripping off the kids etc and so on. However, wearing a cowboy hat will cure that. This all reminds me of a piece of graffiti in Cambridge on Mill Road: "LOOK OUT MR.BUSINESS MAN GREY, THE FLOWER PEOPLE ARE COMING TO GET YOU." Reminds me of that poor goldfish. I suppose I feel a slight snobbishness towards The Anthology Of American Folk Music because, whereas I didn't have it in 1960 like Bob Dylan also didn't, I picked up the three boxed sets on 24th Street in San Francisco, CA in about 1990 for, exactly, 99 cents a piece. I just think it's tragic that the man gave me a withering look as I bought it ('Hey, we're finally getting rid of this piece of crap that we had to reduce to 99 cents!'), whereas perhaps that very same man is now making $70 a time selling a 6 CD set to people who will play it exactly once. I have spoken. I feel bad about it but my say is had. That kind of snobbishness is pretty lame but a known feeling amongst music people. Go on. You recognise it. You know it. Mind you, David Lewis and I thought we were being very authentic in 1984 when we had a three piece busking band and played these kinds of old-timey songs. However, we only liked songs that had first been filtered through the consciousness of Ry Cooder. We didn't have access to the source. So we picked through the secondary material. That's what you do. We also did a version of PsychoKiller called CycleKiller, but that isn't pertinent right now. A puppy dog walks into the freeway. I see it. Robert sees it. We swerve to the right. There is no car to our right. The dog retreats to the side of the road and lives. We are fine. The dog is fine. Another plane falls into New York. "Something is dreadfully wrong" sings Marty Robbins in El Paso. "A deep burning pain in my side!" He's been shot is what's happened. Or perhaps, as Robert points out, it's a kidney stone. Chapel Hill here we come. Open up your bookstalls, we're coming to town.	Nov 11th 2001 The Iota, Arlington, VA Sluts Pull You So&So Bad Dream Baby Still Photo You're Looking At Me Humble Bee When The Sun Comes Out Sleeper, Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave The Triumph Of Trash Protest Protest Protest Our Lady Of The Highways Every Sunrise Is Another Sunset Window Seat - Already Dead Save A Little Room For Me Wreck On The Highway
#3: 14th Nov 2001 The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys - Traffic (noodles along pleasantly, a couple of great songs) The Best Of Leon Russell (raucous) I can't believe how many people read this tour dairy. It's quite astonishing. I might be more read than I am listened to. We've had the shock of recognition ('I can't believe anyone else listens to Olias of Sunhillow!'), many theories about the goldfish, set lists collated in their entirety (thank you) and even a warning about making fun of Marty Robbins' El Paso. Chapel Hill couldn't have been more pleasant - a lovely day off spent in every bookstore and record store in town, and, even, in The Gap. The thing about bookstores is that the more different they are, the better they are - simple. You don't want to see the same books for the same price in every store. But the thing about The Gap is that it is its incredible monotonous consistency that makes it so wonderful - London, New York, Paris, Munich: a good pair of boxers will always be available. Books and underwear are very dissimilar: discuss. David is becoming quite rock'n'roll as time goes on - though he hasn't quite got the language right. He keeps calling the 'load out', the 'load in' - and he's quite right, I mean, it's only the load out while you're in the club, then you're immediately loading in to the van. His reactions to the tour are very interesting to wizzened veterans like Robert and myself. He marvels at how different each gig is from each other, and wonders why we don't keep fruit in the back of the van. I gave him our 'buy out' money yesterday (the $12 the venue decently throws your way so you can eat out before the gig....) and he looked at me in child-eyed wonder. We thought he might start calling it a 'buy in' at any moment. I'll say it here and now: David has one of the loveliest voices I have ever heard - it's an effortless pleasure to watch him every night. Joke of the day. We were talking about a rapper from Oakland and I mentioned that he had moved his operation to Atlanta. And David said: 'Oh, what kind of operation did he have?" Which was funny in itself. I was able to answer: 'Oh, Hip Op." Which was good. How we laughed. Oh dear. More goldfish: Abba also had their own confession about the goldfish in "Elaine," one of their later, less loved, singles - "You're like a goldfish in a bowl, They've got your heart, they'll take your soul" (or something very like that - I am quoting from memory, dear friends.) Poor goldfish. I can't remember exactly what Elaine's problem was but one can imagine that it was quite a dilemma if Benny and Bjorn compared her to a goldfish. Poor goldfish. Any more Goldfish mentions? David points out that BB probably knew the John Kongos single. They were well-schooled. Molly of New York writes with the suggestion that the goldfish does question the changing of the water, but then can't remember what he or she has questioned just seconds later. Good point. A more serious correspondent mentions that we are all questioning the changing of the water since September 11th. Good point too. However, I hardly think that the release of Love And Theft, the excellent new album by Bob Dylan has been that influential. And we're now on our way to Atlanta. Large trucks hurtle by at full speed. We are not quite out of North Carolina and into South Carolina. We have just agreed to do a radio show in Louisville this Friday - you can even listen to it on the internet at 12 Noon Eastern Time at www.wfpk.org. Please bear in mind, if you do, that we will have had to wake up at 6am in Nashville that morning and driven to Louisville to arrive in time to do this. And the ultimate indignity? We LOSE an hour. I'd happily exchange gaining an hour I don't need for not losing it later. Can you do that? I am listening to the mixes of my new record. I only want 12 songs on the album. I have recorded 14. This is going to mean some harsh choices: Sophie's Choice. Hobson's Choice. His Master's Choice. We will see what we will see. There were 36 songs for the record, so I already got rid of 22. We have just passed 24 hour Café Risque - the adult café on I-85. 'Hmm, I'll have a double cappuccino and a copy of Bonfire Of The Panties, if you please.'	Nov 13th 2001 Room 4, Carrboro, NC Sluts It Stays The Speed of Normal The Secret Angel Isle of France People Love to Watch You Die Paradise Sleeper Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave You're Looking at Me Humble Bee Our Lady of the Highways Every Sunrise The Triumph of Trash Window Seat - Sussex Ghost Story Save a Little Room for Me Wreck on the Highway   (thanks to Sarah for   this set list)
#4: 15th Nov 2001 Denomination Blues Because It Feel Good - Kelly Hogan (the golden tones of the gorgeous Hogan) A Compilation - The Strawbs (As selected by David Lewis himself) Northern Soul All-Nighter - Various Artists (contains about 200 songs) We are passing Chattanooga. David looks down on the city and says "Chattanooga!" I say "This is where the Chattanooga Choo-Choo came from." David says, casting his eyes on the city: "Where is the Choo-Choo? I can't see it." Robert says: "Track 29". We are driving through The Crab Orchard Mountains on our way to Nashville, where we shall take David to a few of our favourite places - a good guitar store, Hatch Show Print, The ridiculous Parthenon, Noshville, and so on. I can't imagine that we could have been better looked after than we were at Eddie's Attic last night. I'd never played there before but clearly Atlanta + Acoustic Guitar = Eddie's Attic, from now on. We had such a good time that we ended with "Denomination Blues", a song that David and I haven't sung live in many many a moon. David took a harp solo and I played the guitar - it was all very nostalgic. We allowed Robert to join the line-up of the reformed Say That And Stay Fashionable (1984, Cambridge, England). He joins (temporarily) in place of, first, Will Meister (and, believe me, we have no earthly idea what happened to him) and then his replacement, David Baddiel (and everybody in the UK knows exactly what happened to him, for he has been ubiquitous on tv ever since). And who would have thought that the band that started as Two Guys In Bootlace Ties (I was just reminded that we were ever called this) and then became ST&SF, and then, on a whim, changed their name to Fred Norton's Retirement on the way to a gig - anyway, who would have thought that they (we) would be playing our old repertoire at a gig in Atlanta in 2001? Well, no-one would have done is the answer. And it's not a good idea and it must stop immediately. You write to tell me many things: I don't look good in brown (hey!), brown and blue don't look good together, Holden Caulfield's brother wrote a short story about a goldfish which Holden liked a lot, Could we please play "Lay Down" by The Strawbs - this is open communication at its very finest, friends. And now I have to do some work here in the car, listening to some mixes and passing judgement upon them - Make the strings sound stringier! Turn up the theremin! Put some reverb on the monkey noises! Flange the Ostrich Guitar! Oh yes. It's all happening here. Teenage Fanclub v Steve Earle - a Robert Lloyd Compilation. A very even match. Oh I got a good thing this morning. But it happened at a bad time. I woke up with a screaming headache at 6am. I'd gone to bed with a slight headache, the kind that is normally no longer there by the time that the first rays are peeking through the curtains of The Hampton Inn and your door is being opened by Room Service despite the Do Not Disturb sign that you carefully displayed. But the headache was much worse and woke me up. I had no Advil (my aspirin of choice) and so I struggled into some clothes and headed down to the lobby where, after much tedium, I was directed to the vending machine in the lobby. There was a pack of four Advil on offer, which came with a 'Complimentary Drinking Cup', and a $1 rebate off your next purchase. I didn't care about these enticements, and I wolfed down the aspirins. It was then I found the 'Complimentary Drinking Cup'. Measuring one and a half inches by three inches, this 'Complimentary Drinking Cup' is made of the rectangular and made of the thinnest plastic possible with one open end. Written on it: "Creative's Convenience Products - Complimentary Drinking Cup. Directions: Open polycup while cupped in palm of hand, fill with water. For Alka Seltzer products: fill cup to 1/3, drop tablet, when desolved add water. "For Feeling Better Faster"." Ok - now remember that this 'cup' is a tiny plastic envelope. Under no circumstances could you put water in this and have it end up in your mouth. Add to this the grammar of the above: is it possible to open something while cupped in the palm of your own hand? And can you 'desolve' a tablet or can it desolve itself? What complexity needed to be added to the tablet to start with? It's like looking at Magritte's "Ce N'est Pas Un Pipe" - except that it says it _is_ a cup when it clearly isn't. This is one of the saddest things I have ever seen. If anyone else would like to see it, I shall try to have it about my person at all time, just in case. And now to some work. Here comes Nashville: Home of The Confessions About A St.Ace (see above, if that reads funny.)	Nov 14th 2001 Eddie's Attic, Atlanta, GA Goth Girl Sluts Pull Infinite Combinations When The Sun Comes Out The Truth People Love To Watch You Die It Stays For An Actress Little Musgrave Cupid and Psycho Wooden Overcoat Our Lady Of The Highways Every Sunrise Window Seat - Sleeper, Awake The Person You Are Wreck On The Highway - Denomination Blues
	Nov 15th 2001 The Sutler, Nashville, TN Goth Girl Sluts It Stays The Secret Angel You're Looking At Me Same Thing Twice The Person You Are Humble Bee Sleeper, Awake For An Actress When You Smile Here Comes The Groom People Love To Watch You Die Save A Little Room For Me - Our Lady Of The Highway Every Sunrise Wreck On The Highway Click to enlarge photos by Michael White
#5: 18th Nov 2001 The Revealing Science Of God We are on our way to Pittsburgh. The last two days have been very hectic and full of driving and playing. You, the tour diary fancier, were the first to suffer. No, we were the first to suffer and then you were the next to suffer. On the cd player now: Nicely Out Of Tune - Lindisfarne The Other Women - The Corn Sisters What has happened. Going backwards, we had a great show in Dayton last night. The Canal Street Tavern is a great venue and we always have a good show there. David's set was superb, his best yet, and I could have gone on playing all night. We even did an extra encore. Prior to that, we had our now annual meal at The Oriental Wok, off I-75, as offered by the lovely Angela Wong who had been at our show the previous night in Louisville. This is exactly the kind of fan you need - the one who can give you a free meal at a great restaurant. In case you're in the area, it's on the Buttermilk Pike exit, just south of Cincinnati, which I can't really spell. Can anyone spell it? I have to check every time. I'm embarrased to mention it. That morning we'd had Robert's mandolin mended in the delightful Highlands region of Louisville KY where we all bought stacks of cds and books. Robert had poured lighter fuel over it the night before, after he'd played it behind his head, then with his teeth, then on his head, then with his head (that was good - 'thought playing' he calls it) and then he'd set fire to it. So we had to have it mended. No, not actually: though he had been in blistering form the night before at Rudyard Kipling's in Louisville. Then his mandolin just decided not to work, in the middle of "The People's Drug", I do believe. So we got it mended - very dull. Cost $10. Anything more you need to know about that? I doubt it. Louisville - there is one thing of great note in Louisville (there are many things of great note in Louisville, but there is one very silly thing in Louisville which must be noted) and it is the incredibly tall Louisville Slugger replica baseball bat. It's very tall. Taller than everything else on the street. It's huge. No-one could possibly wield it except Gargantua, the Pilsbury Doughboy Monster at the end of Ghostbusters, or God himself as The Devil pitched him a knuckleball. This slugger is right downtown. I had to ask three people where it was. These people were in downtown Louisville. They worked in hotels in downtown Louisville. Some of them even had jobs the descriptions of which include things like 'provide guest with adequate information about the local points of interest.' But did any of them know where the behemoth Louisville Slugger was? Did they? No. I finally asked a guy in a uniform and he knew. America! Wake Up! Could someone please give me a lot of money to write a semi-fictional roman a clef about my life? Thanks. Just if you know of anyone. Another attraction of Louisville is the InStyle clothing store on 4th, which now proudly displays a picture of me, probably between the ones of Chris Rock and Chris Isaak. I am now the owner of two suits from this most excellent store. You may remember the story of the first suit from the last tour diary. This time, my suit also came with free shirts, shoes, tie-pin etc. The suit is magnificent. Possibly not as loud as the last one, but still magnificent. You may even see it. Tales From Topographic Oceans (parts 1 and 2) - Yes Am I supposed to be embarrassed (see I can spell it right, really....) about liking Yes? Are they my guilty pleasure? Well, I always liked Abba and people used to say that was my guilty pleasure, but now Abba would be considered far from a guilty pleasure. At this point in Rock History, not liking Abba would be though a guilty displeasure. And so will it be proved with Yes. Sure, he sings with a girly voice, and yes, their best lines are best not thought about too deeply. Yes, Chris Squire wore spandex pants at his last NYC gig (two days before Sept 11th) and I could see the outline of 'the old twig and berries', though Kurt Bloch was in extreme denial about this, claiming he could see nothing at all even when he was looking directly at Squire's spandexed nethers. I could go on and on. I do go on and on. There is much to fear. Yet the music is great, somehow. I can't work out why it is quite. But here's a think: I am so glad that I hated Yes when I was 15-30, and very glad that I didn't smoke bags of righteous weed while lost in those Roger Dean covers. I'm glad that I thought that the people who did that were idiots who would be better off listening to Shot Of Love and The River. And I'm glad that I didn't discover all (any of!) the good things about them til recently. I have enjoyed them only during my majority. Give it a try. But not girls - apparently, there is only any chance of boys liking Yes. I'm not sure where the Yes gene is, or who spliced it, or why only boys have it (is it cos the music is nerdy, best enjoyed by lonely males who think themselves, and their bad skin, slightly superior to the people who listen to the "music" in the "charts", when in fact it is their social awkwardness that leaves them listening to Siberian Khaatru on headphones while their better looking classmates (say, the dapper young Fotherington-Thomas) are learning to drive, taking tennis lessons and listening to Madness. There is no answer to that question. There was barely even a question. It was rhetorical at very best.) The one girl that I know of who defiantly disproves this theory is Tammie Peacock, better half of Kirk Swan. She once let fly the awe-inspiring catchphrase, as she put on her battered vinyl copy of Yessongs: "Steve Howe is gonna rip tonight!" I'm sure there are many other girls who like the music of Yes. But whoever they are, they may well not be reading this now. Perhaps they're reading Jon Anderson's tour diary at Yes.com: "Today, I re-read Haknu Ginji's The Absolute Nonentity of Beinglessness and decided, finally, to make my feelings about Dignity and The Musicality of Oneness known to Chris, particularly in reference to the continued flaunting of his penis onstage." (That isn't a direct quote. I can make fun because I care.) And thanks for the continued music recommendations (Klaatu - alright!), the requests and the occasional entries of your very own diaries ('I could have brushed JWH's arm at this point, but I didn't'). In fact one tour diary quoted me as saying to a friend, and I hope they don't mind me quoting them correctly: "I told David to leave his cape at home..." when what I had actually said to my friend was 'I taught David his capo placement' as a joke. So there you have it - you can say anything you like on the web. Even this. David proclaims that this is our twelfth show tonight 'not including the radio work'. Things are happening to David slowly. Today, he even sold two CDs in the coffee shop before we even left Dayton. That's pretty classy. And Dayton might have been the best show of the tour yet. Louisville was also fantastic. As was the show we did at WFPK for which we had to get up so early. Long may we run. After tonight in Pittsburgh, we head back to NYC for three days off over Thanksgiving with the next show in Newhaven on Friday. We will see Bob Dylan Monday night at Madison Square Garden. I must stop typing now.	16th Nov 2001 Rudyard Kipling's, Louisville, KY Goth Girl Sluts Pull The Red Rose And The Briar Humble Bee Still Photo You're Looking At Me The People's Drug Sleeper, Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave Here Comes The Groom Our Lady Of The Highways Every Sunrise Window Seat - Sussex Ghost Story Wreck On The Highway
	17th Nov 2001 Canal Street Tavern, Dayton, OH Goth Girl Sluts It Stays Ordinary Weekend Humble Bee In Paradise Youre Looking At Me Window Seat Sleeper, Awake For An Actress Little Musgrave People Love To Watch You Die The Truth Our Lady Of The Highways Every Sunrise Save A Little Room For Me - Monkey And His Cat Im Wrong About Everything Wreck On The Highway - Here Comes The Groom    (thanks to Ken for    the set list) Click to enlarge photos by Andy Welter Click to enlarge photos by Brian Griffin
#6: 19th Nov 2001 Monkey And His Cat The Neil Young songs from the three CSNY albums - collated by David. Kate Rusby/Kathryn Williams/Eliza Carthy - a DL compilation Le Danger - Francoise Hardy Unfinished Mixes of "Don't Look Back Now" - new JWH album (working title only) It is Monday and we are driving through Pennsylvania to my house in Brooklyn - thence, to MSG where we have an important date with BD. The Pennsylvania turnpike is the thinnest road in the world. Trucks seem about one foot away from you. We are 67 miles from Hazleton. A cold descended on me during the performance in Pittsburgh last night - it was a very odd and previously unknown circumstance. My eyes started to water and my nose started to run. I trooped on. It was very bizarre. I hope it was all ok. We did play some good songs and some good requests: I was pleased to play "When You Smile" and "Monkey And His Cat". We even managed to wrap our fingers round "Same Thing Twice", one of the less requested songs from Here Comes The Groom. I can certainly feature a couple of days off - if it's a cold, it came at a pretty good time. I can sneeze over my house rather than you. At least until Newhaven on Friday. We have been listening to much music this morning while I have put off writing the tour dairy by answering my email: I have to master the album (the actual process of putting it on to CD in a certain way so that it sounds as good as it possibly can) in December, so making notes on the mixes becomes an urgent task. I am going on tour in Germany (probably) in late January and early February of 2002. It is Thanksgiving on Thursday and I have to get a Turkey and it should be a good turkey full of its own natural hormones, not a freak Turkey puffed unnaturally large by man's desire for bigger fatter turkeys to make bigger, fatter humans. Give me a natural, normal sized turkey any day. And I will eat it. On this tour, by the way, David Lewis, whom I will profile in a forthcoming diary entry, has been compared to Brian Eno (in looks) twice and Tom Waits (in songwriting) once. Neither had ever occurred to us before. His hair style accounts for the first comparison, but the second: could it be his gravelly voice? CS and N do not bring the best out of Y - that is final. Perhaps he gives them the out-take songs from the Y albums and CS and N are grateful for what they get. Whichever it is, the last two CSNY albums seem like business decisions rather than real albums of music. I have spoken. My apologies to all involved (I hear that Graham Nash is a HUGE fan of this tour diary!!) but, really.... Kathryn Williams on the other hand sounds like Beth Orton minus William Orbit. And her album is ravishing, and very laid-back. I recommend it. At one point David said: "That track rocked out a bit at the end.... Did you notice?" And of course, things aren't really rockin' out if you might not have noticed that they did. Robert loves everything French so we listen to Francoise Hardy, the most beautiful woman in the world, every now and then. I like the French (like most English people, I like to say things about 'The French' or 'The Americans' as though there was only one of them and they only acted one way.....) and that means that I buy Serge Gainsbourg albums of ever-decreasing quality. However, I put a 'point', a 'grand point', on this instalment pan by buying the insanely large Serge boxed set, limited to an edition of 3000 copies, at the SXSW record fair last year. (Good lord, it even comes with a hardback book.) So now I don't have to buy Serge albums anymore. I have them all. In a box. Which I don't even have to open if I don't feel like it. But Robert loves everything French: berets, PSG, Dutronc, Maigret, kissing (for all I know), the Isle of France - everything except Le Pen of course. Robert is always encouraging me to do dates in France, but no-one ever asks me to play there. I played there once with John Hiatt in the year dot. We did one hundred dates in Belgium and one in France. I remember that I had a vile stomach ache and ended up walking through the red light district wishing that I had left my guitar at the hotel. I was paying my dues. As I still am, by the way. There are more dues than I had been led to believe. I enjoy paying my dues. Other people don't seem to have the same dues: they have either more or less dues. And, one wonders, who decides that I pay this many dues and that other bloke plays that many? But now it's got to the point where people pay me my due and then I pay the dues back elsewhere. (That reminded me of Donald Barthelme, for a little moment.) I note that I am way off topic today. Francoise is making me feel saucy. Have a very happy thanksgiving and we'll see you at the end of this week. The chance of me writing anything before then are very thin indeed. Wish my throat well. Of course, I'll lost my voice entirely tonight, shouting things like: "Go,Bobby!", and "Sing One For, Jerry, dude!"	18th Nov 2001 Rosebud, Pittsburgh, PA Goth Girl Sluts Pull The Red Rose And The Briar Same Thing Twice You're Looking At Me Humble Bee Save A Little Room For Me Monkey And His Cat When You Smile Little Musgrave The Truth People Love To Watch You Die Annan Water Our Lady Of The Highways Window Seat - The Devil In Me Wreck On The Highway    (Thanks to Sandy for    the set list) An Alternative Set List for Pittsburgh (compiled by Robert Lloyd) Highway To Hell Dark Star Jungle Boogie I Shot The Sheriff Safe European Home Beer Barrel Polka Moonlight In Vermont Kharma Chameleon If I Had A Hammer Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? Jocko Homo Smells Like Teen Spirit Abraham, Martin and John Roll Over Beethoven - Roundabout   Click to enlarge photos by Beth Bachtold
#7: 24th Nov 2001 Christmas in CT Saturday morning. I awake in an 18th Century CT farmhouse with 800 bedrooms. Outside, there is a barn, possibly erected overnight by Amish Settlers. The huge grounds are covered in a crunchy sprinkling of dry leaves. I smell onions frying in a potentially omelette like way on a stove somewhere in the house. - life seems fairly good. I have died and gone back in time. What has actually happened is that last night we played our first ever good gig in CT. I can't remember another one, if you can. When you consider that: I broke a string in a vital moment of Window Seat The guitar kept cutting out entirely, and I replaced, one by one, during the show, all the cables, the tuner, and then the DI box itself Picks kept flipping out of my hand like they were made of springs Four of the most annoying large Marines type people were yakking loudly throughout the first two thirds of the gig... (see below) ... then it's fairly remarkable that it turned out well at all. And it didn't just turn out well, it turned out great. And more things could not have screwed up. But it just goes to show that the quality of a show is nothing to do with the things that go wrong during it. So the next time you see a performer getting agitated because of a little squeal from the monitor, or the late arrival of a reserve guitar, then for gawd's sake, tell them to grow up. As for my health, well I know it's caused a few troubled Thanksgivings. It wasn't a cold. It was allergies. I was prescribed a pill. I took one and was better the next morning. They went away just in time for the Bob Dylan show at The Garden - which was very very good. And then I had a relatively quiet thanksgiving, pausing only to spend two entire days in the kitchen for a meal that took about 45 minutes to eat. And now we're back on the road again, wearing ladies' clothes again. First stop: CT. CT never been too good to me, but last night, all change. We had fun. Vive La Tune Inn Lounge. Now on to the important question of talking during gigs - let's get one thing straight. If people are talking, I can't really ask them to shut up - it's their money, it's their leisure time, it's their choice. They can do whatever they want. However, if it is annoying to you, the audience, the other members of the audience, the polite members of the audience, then it is also your leisure time, and it is also your right to have them not be so annoying. So, you can ask them to be quiet. And they probably will be. Particularly if they are also fans. However, in Newhaven, they were not fans. After I finally bored these non-fans into leaving, I pointed out to everyone else in the room that they could have asked them to shut up too. A voice piped up wisely: 'They were big!' And it was true. It was a Good Point. They were huge. So, we now have a situation where I can gently hint to you people that you should ask the talky people to be quiet - ok, we'll call that step one. And if you choose not to embark on Step One, then we are somewhat stuck. Then we have to go straight to Step Two: I tell them to shut up. Because I am out on a limb for you people anyway, risking my neck on the precipice of rock'n'roll every night, yes because of that, it should be me who tells them to shut up. But only if you are not prepared to go with Step One. That's the way we'll handle this next time. Should it happen again. Of course it rarely does happen, because I play rooms like Eddie's Attic, McCabes, Passims and The Canal Street Tavern, and these are listening rooms, made for the consumption of music and the thoughtful reflection that is bound to ensue from the effect of well-honed lyrics commingled with the blush on the cheek caused by a fine hoppy beverage. For example, no-one is going into McCabes thinking: 'I am a marine. I want to impress this girl. We are going to see a rock show. Let's drink at McCabes tonight and just see who's on.' But, every now and then, I find myself at a place like The Tune Inn on a Friday night, and, along with the many people who came to hear, to listen, to drink, to meet someone to have anonymous sex with in the parking lot (oh no, sorry, that's the NEXT lot of people), there is sometimes also a tiny cache of people who are there for all the wrong reasons (which are really equally right reasons, you have to look at it that way.... Except that their reasons are less considerate) who, once they realise that they are annoying people, dig their heels in and say, but not out loud, though they say everything else out loud: 'We're staying! We have a right to be here! We're staying right here! We're going to think up things to talk about loud! We're going to do more talking than we ever did before!' - because it's Friday, because they're drunk, because there's beer on sale, because they're bored, because they thought I was a heavy metal band, because they once saw a righteous reggae outfit at the venue and scored some skankin' bud from Dr.Dave in the parking lot, because they thought it was Goth night..... And so it was last night at The Tune Inn. I pride myself on putting on a good show for you people out there, you little people, you big people, you normal people, you strangers, you friends - but some things make it a little trickier. Nothing, however, if I'm good, is insurmountable - and I would never hide behind the excuse of distraction. So this isn't an actual problem. Whatever you do, it will be fine. My show is about what is all around me - the people, the stage, the guitar, the requests, the bar, the waitress, the you, the me. So if people are chatting, it will likely work its way into the show - for better, for worse. If they leave or shut up, for better. If they punch me in the nose, for worse. So, I say again - it's generally in your hands. If you fail, or refuse to take Step One, then you can choose me as your delegate, your Union Organiser and I will take Step Two. Done. What is far worse, or far more controversial, than that, is when the people talking or singing along are your own real fans - and it is simply their sheer honest enthusiasm that is making them incredibly offensive to everyone else in the room. This is up to you because I will do nothing to stop them. I might make fun of them because they are in front of me, making a difference to the show, but I won't stop them. I applaud them. I revere them. I laugh with them. I sing along with them. They sing along with me. We sing along with each other. I might even try to dodge the words around a little bit so they can't sing along with me. But, in this instance, Step Two does not apply. That situation is entirely up to you. And we haven't really got into the van yet to listen to any music so I can tell you what we're listening to. But that important update will happen soon. I'll text it to your cellphones or something. And tonight we play Boston - Bob Dylan is also playing in town. And for once, that show in NYC was so great that I don't even have to go and see Dylan again tonight, I'm happy to bask in the glow of Monday night. And anyway, it would have meant cancelling my show tonight and that would have been unprofessional. And how can I expect you to be a professional audience, as it were, if I'm not prepared to be a professional entertainer? I hope you had a good Thanksgiving. Now, get back to work. We have.	23rd Nov 2001 Tune Inn, Newhaven, CT Goth Girl Sluts Pull You So&So Humble Bee The People's Drug You're Looking At Me Spaced Cowgirl The Truth Monkey And His Cat For An Actress Little Musgrave The Triumph Of Trash Our Lady of The Highways Every Sunrise Window Seat - When You Smile Save A Little Room For Me Wreck On The Highways
	24th Nov 2001 Passim, Cambridge, MA Protest Protest Protest Sluts Goth Girl It Stays Infinite Combinations People Love to Watch you die Isle of France The Truth Sleeper Awake For an Actress Little Musgrave People's Drug You're Looking at me Canadee-i-o Our Lady of the Highways Every Sunrise Window Seat - Monkey & Cat Save a Little Room for Me Wreck on the Highway    (thanks to Maria for    the set list)
#8: 27th Nov 2001 Where Do The Children Play? Carthy In Company - Martin Carthy (from the Free Reed boxed set) Tea For The Tillerman - Cat Stevens David, Robert and I are on a long shopping trip around America interrupted only by some gigs. And if you want to spend a little cash there is no better place on earth to do it than Boston or Cambridge. I certainly bought two pairs of shoes, David bought many a compact disc, and Robert too. Between them, they are trying to buy every compact disc in the world. We ate at The Bombay Club - that place is fantastic. I watched Arsenal thrash Manchester United at The Plough And Stars on Mass Ave. That was good too. It was a very pleasant brace of days off. And now we are going to Cleveland. I had a 'moment' in one of the many CD stores we went into. It was one of those moments when you have to actually consider what to do about something, which, even though it is, in itself, a very trivial thing, assumes great import morally. Picture this. As I mentioned before, someone wrote and said that they thought that I would like Klaatu. Fairly convincing reasons for this were provided - now, this person might be right or wrong, but I didn't get where I am today turning up perfectly sensible suggestions towards the improving of my musical knowledge, particularly when it involves a band I'm sure that I've never heard, and when that very self same band a) has a song called Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III and b) wrote Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft, for you know who (The Carpenters). So I have been looking for Klaatu's first record ever since this suggestion (for which, thanks. Remember it was just such a suggestion in 1976, that made me go and listen to a Bob Dylan record - and look what that did. So watch out what you suggest - apparently, I am just a sucker for a suggestion.) I have been looking, yes, but I have been looking in vain. Klaatu aren't even in reference books so it's hard to know what these albums are called - the first two turn out to be called, perhaps not surprisingly, Klaatu and Hope. Anyway, I was in a store in Cambridge and there, in the store, is a Collector's Choice edition of the first two Klaatu albums - on one cd! A twofer! Of course, I was in bliss, because what had seemed impossible to find was suddenly sat right before me - priced at $7.99. Well, you can't beat that. In that irrational way that all music lovers will recognise immediately, I had to have this record though I really had no idea about the music (one song is called Sub-Rosa Subway, while another, more dubiously, Anus Of Uranus) except that they wrote a Carpenters song (that I don't much like) and they were rather secretive for a little while and were thus mistaken for The Beatles in the mid-70s. (As was I, incidentally.) And there was the record - both records - in front of me. I take them to the counter. The discs are retrieved. And they are CDRs. The cover is a photocopy. The disc is a blank disc that has had a label stuck on it. It doesn't even look good. I had thought the xeroxed cover out in the racks was just out there in order to save the perfection of the one that they had stored behind the counter. But no. Now, I'm all in favour of a little Robin Hoodery in music - that's why I approve of people swapping live tapes, why I put Blobs together, why I throw up MPFrees on the web site, and why you won't catch me signing up to the Artists For A Little Publicity But Against Napster full page ad in USA Today - but I am against shoddy packaging and profiteering. I thought this was a great CD store by the way (and coincidentally, I have no idea where it was now I think back on it) and I really wanted to buy these Klaatu albums because I really wanted to hear them. But then I thought: No. I can't. This poor record label called Collector's Choice, in 1999, took the huge leap of faith of releasing these two Klaatu albums on the off-chance that some poor twit with no taste in music (that's me) will want to spend $15 on them. And perhaps Klaatu (probably still millionaires from The Carpenters record sales, but still...) may even make the odd royalty from these records. And don't let me give you the impression that I approve of Collector's Choice particularly. Even if it hadn't been a xerox of the album cover, even if it had been the original, it would still have been a terrible cover. And the spine? Have you ever seen a worse spine than: 'Two Classic Albums from Klaatu"? I ask you! Couldn't they even have put the NAMES of the records on the spine? Anyway, I digress. What I mean to say is I might even like the record store more than I like the record label. But the bottom line in this instance is I could have had that cd, which I had really wanted, for $7.99 and I didn't buy it. Why? Firstly, it looked shoddy. If you're going to make a bootleg of a totally available cd, at least make it look good. Secondly, and this is where my principled stance begins, I'm not sure I want someone to make $7.99 off me for a CDR - $7.99 which they haven't really earned except by owning a record and knowing how to use a CD Burner. I have no idea whether the shop made the CDR themselves or whether they were sold it, but I couldn't buy it. On the other hand, if it had been a Klaatu live radio session, I would have totally supported their right to sell it and mine to buy it. But I turned this CD up. I spurned it. I wanted it but I didn't buy it. I couldn't hand over the money because I thought it was unfair, on me, on the ignorant consumer, on Klaatu, on Collector's Choice. I think I even have a bit of a problem with a CDR of a bootleg - I want my cover printed and I want the CD itself to have been manufactured with print on it. I'm just not comfortable with someone buying something and then immediately duplicating it at home and reselling it. Where will that end? I like my bootlegs beautiful. Genuine Live 1966. At least, let's pretend that they're real records. Perhaps my stance isn't principled at all. Perhaps it's only aesthetically principled. Perhaps it's just a load of old hooey all that stuff about feeling bad for Klaatu (a bunch of rich Canadian Dilettantes), Collector's Choice (exploiters of back catalogue who also don't know how to package a record properly), The Ignorant Consumer (he's ignorant!) and Me (Mr. Double Standard.) Perhaps I just don't like yukky things on my shelf. Anyway, I didn't buy it. On Principle. It's still sitting there. You can go and buy it. But I am listening to the record right now. Yes, I am listening to: Two Classic Albums From Klaatu ('From' Klaatu, by the way? What do they think Klaatu is? A planet? Two Classic Albums from The Beatles? What is that, 'From'?) Why? Because David Lewis went out record shopping yesterday at The Tower next to the rocking Howard Johnson, before I was even up, and what did he find, for $12.99, even though he wasn't even looking for it, but the Collector's Choice version of 'Two Classic Albums From Klaatu'? The real thing. In Tower Records. For $12.99. And he woke me up with it, because he thought I deserved it, given my principled stance of the previous day. And I have to say - I feel somewhat vindicated, in that tedious way that makes you want to crow to people. Look what I didn't do. There is a god after all. And now I am the proud owner of this record, that, so far, seems good. All that for Klaatu. A band in whom I had no interest until someone wrote to me and said: 'You, JWH, might like them.' And if anyone can tell me why they're called Klaatu, I'll be impressed. I didn't know. Robert told me. There's a CDR of their first two records in it for you. I'll burn it! Kidding. Sadly, my last tour diary entry caused one member of the Newhaven crowd to proclaim 'Bummer!' because I didn't say how great the gig was, or explain how I got it, or what Robert and I ate etc. Instead, I went off on a tangent about gig etiquette and what to do if people are talking. But I can't dictate where my fingers go for these tour diary entries. They dictate where I go. Better that I make a long disquisition about audience behaviour here than on stage, I reckon, where I dispatched with those chatters in just a few short lines, saving extra time for valuable songs. But I apologise to anyone who wants this to be more cheerful, or less cheerful, or chattier, or terser. It is what it is. I can't plan it. The gigs I can plan up to a point. This I can't plan at all. Look at the above section, for example. For which I apologise. I apologise for everything, by the way, every squirt of my virtual ink. The irony is that our gig at Passim featured the most wonderful audience of all time. What a room! It was utterly packed and yet totally comfortable, the food was great (we ate a pizza with blue cheese on it, and a very fine house salad... alas, no beer allowed....), the show was fabulous. I sat outside looking down towards the basement while David was playing. They were piping an extremely good mix of his live show out on to the street and I squatted on the floor and looked down at Robert and David framed in the light through the window. It looked like something from 1962, when Passim was probably called Club 47 (I think that was the name of it) and when Dylan was playing open mike night. Well, that very night Dylan was playing 'Open Mike Night' at The Fleet Center to an audience of approximately 10 million amongst whom were at least three close friends of mine. And, of course, if I hadn't been playing, I'd have gone too, so I certainly don't blame them for that. Anyway, Matt and Passim couldn't have been nicer to us, so we all say thank you. I expect to be there again before too long. I really love Cat Stevens. His basic philosophy (before, that is, his basic philosophy became, "Killing Salman Rushdie Would Be Acceptable" - though David informs me that he has now revoked this, claiming it to have been 'a bit of a mistake') was: 'The world is getting odder by the minute but be groovy: but while you're being groovy, consider this: where do children play.' I can't put it more succinctly than that. But the thing is that Cat didn't understand children (despite being called Cat.) At the beginning of 'Where Do The Children Play?' he says, ironically: 'I think it's fine building Jumbo Planes'. And, of course, the kicker at the end of this verse and chorus is going to be, as in so many Cat numbers, that progress is fine, but: 'Where do the children play?' Robert has pointed out that the song could be more about allocation of public funds than anything else - if we're going to build the Jumbo Planes (and who on EARTH ever used the phrase Jumbo Plane? Jumbo Jet, ok. Air Plane, absolutely. But Jumbo Plane?) then that's fine but we should build an equal number of playgrounds as well. But Cat doesn't understand kids - doesn't he know that there is nowhere a kid woud rather play than actually on or in one of the jumbo planes. That's where the protest should be - forget where will the children play, we know where they want to play, on the PLANE. The problem is that the man won't allow them to play there, on the plane, in the cockpit, eating, as it were, the wild pretzel. Even less so, today. That's why Cat is back with a new incredibly expensive boxed set and avowals of tolerance about Rushdie. He has more to say about the children. The Basement Tapes - Bob Dylan Pipedream - Alan Hull Tomorrow, we are going to the Rock'n'Roll Fame in Cleveland. It seems like the thing to do. And we shall then do a show at the Beachland Ballroom. About which I have no idea. But I promise you this one thing: We Will Rock.	28th Nov 2001 Beachland Ballroom, Cleveland, OH Humble Bee Window Seat Still Photo Canadee-i-o Here Comes the Groom People Love to Watch You Die Sluts Ordinary Weekend It Stays The Triumph of Trash You're Looking at Me Lady of the Highways Every Sunrise Devil in Me -- When You Smile Save a Little Room for Me Wreck on the Highway    (thanks to Karen for    the set list)
#9: 29 Nov 2001 Oh Bondage! Up Yours Various - Rod Stewart v Aerosmith A Pretty Cheesy Punk CD Compilation which we enjoyed We are driving to Chicago in some wretched weather. Last night, we had a good show in Cleveland. People stayed away in droves, however. Perhaps they didn't want to go out in the rain. Perhaps they went instead to the Suzanne Vega show, though I hate to think that of them. But those of us at The Beachland Ballroom had a particularly good time. And thanks for coming. We had previously been able to go to The Rock'n'Roll Hall Of Fame, where, if John Lennon's bloody spectacles are your cup of tea, then you're in luck. But then Yoko Ono has already put them on an album cover, so you can barely move in this world without being confronted by John Lennon's bloody glasses. I wonder where they will next turn up. Perhaps as a guest on late night chat shows. I'm not sure about Rock'n'roll museums at all. I accept that they have to exist. I love the way that the EMP in Seattle supports the local music scene by having gigs. But basically I am not that interested in the contents. There's no big political point to be made about it - it just only retains my interest for so long. David, who reads lengthy cover notes about anyone, even people whose music he has no interest in listening to whatsoever, was a good person to take. I like the lyrics on bits of paper. I love how cheesy the stage clothes look - because, whether you're Liberace or The Rolling Stones, stage gear is still only meant to be worn on stage and seen from afar - up close, it's cheesy, badly made. I liked the note from Springsteen, hand-written, that said simply: "Hands Off All Food In backstage Area, Guys - Boss" (or something like that.) But do I want to see a bunch of old Rolling Stones in a frame? Not much. The whole union of Rock'n'Roll and Hall of Fame seems weird to me - call me a dreadful old hippie. But if they asked me if I wanted to be inducted, I would have to ponder a long time before I finally said 'yes'. I'm no Jonathan Franzen. I know which side my bread is buttered on. Anyway, I have had my say about Rock'n'Roll museums before. Infinity, man, it's going up on trial! (And where's the Dylan stuff anyway?) So instead I'll mention this. We had a lot of conversation at the gig about whether Cleveland is the Rock'n'Roll capital of the world. Well, The Hall Of Fame is certainly there - and I'm sure there are very sound financial reasons why this is so, to do with tax incentives, and other things that we poor Rock'n'Roll performers can't possibly understand. But is Cleveland the Rock'n'Roll capital of World? Is it? is it the Rock'n'Roll capital of America? And come to that, is it even the Rock'n'Roll capital of Ohio? Stand up, DAYTON! The evidence of my own experience points to Dayton being the rockin' centre of the great state of Ohio. Why? Because I can sell out a show there and get to stay in the same hotel as Neil Diamond (Oh yes) whereas in Cleveland the only person of importance in the hotel was Jordan, the memorable parking attendant. Anyway, back to Cleveland - a fine town to be sure. But Das Rock'n'Roll Kapital? Eric Carmen? The Raspberries? I'm in that far! Anyway, two enterprising audience members wrote out 10 reasons why Cleveland is the Rock'n'Roll capital of America, and in the interests of fair representation, here goes - "Why Cleveland Is The Rock'n'Roll Capital Of The World (not in order) Zeppelin is quoted as saying it was their favourite town to party and play. The guy that wrote all the Meatloaf stuff is from here. Springsteen's best show ever - here - around Christmas 1978 BIG early Beatles shows at old Cleveland Stadium Those guys wrote that song - Cleveland Rocks - (Ian Hunter) Chrissie Hynde is from here Devo is from here Joe Walsh and The James Gang ---- Eagles (big here in the States) We are the only remaining market for The Sensational Alex Harvey Band Alan Freed said so way back at the beginning. With love, (name withheld), Cleveland, Ohio" And I consider that a very valiant effort, if not altogether a successful one. Here are our responses: ... but the awesomest 14 year old Groupies are in LA (Robert) Is that a good thing? (Robert) You can't even remember his name (Wes) Bruce is from New Jersey (fact) The Beatles are from England (fact) Ian Hunter is from England (fact) Akron is not Cleveland (fact) Akron is not Cleveland (fact) I dislike the Eagles intensely (Wes) Alex Harvey is dead (fact) I'll give you this one (Robert) Meanwhile, there is a note to #6 and 7. Name Withheld did claim that Akron counted because it is Greater Cleveland - but it's 40 whole miles away. And those people always say they're from Akron, not Cleveland - don't they? Oh I don't know. Anyway, of such lists doth great enjoyment come, so thanks to Name Withheld for that one. David Lewis was compared to Gerry Rafferty last night. If you add this to a list of people he's like that already includes Tom Waits, Brian Eno, the guy from Rocky Horror Show (Richard O'Brien) and Al Stewart then I think you can get a fantastically misleading impression of his music. The Klaatu album - the first one of the two - isn't bad. And over the next three days we stay in Chicago and manage four shows - as always it will be fun. As always, we will not be staying in hotels. As always, we will be joined on stage by various local personages of repute. As always, Chicago will rock. For it is, as we all know, the Rock'n'Roll Capital Of America, except Seattle (and Dayton.) (And Cleveland/Akron).
#10: 2 Dec 2001 Surrender (note: in this entry of the tour diary, I have let the spellchecker have its way with my piece. I hope you can substitute the right words.) Hours..... - David Bow-wow Echoes - Pink Floyd Live At Bodkin - Cheap Trick We had to listen to Bodkin as we drove by Rockford IL, on our extremely long drive from Chicago to Seattle which we have just undertaken. It will take about three days. On such days, you have to take things a lot easier than you do at other times. You have to do things slower. Think slower. Write the tour diary later on. Don't waste your batteries and so on. As ever, when we get to Chicago, my tour diaries disappear entirely. Why? It's simple. I'm having too much fun to write a tour diary. I'm staying with Sheila and Bethann, and we're having fun times. We're doing shows and drinking, we're eating welsh rarebit and laughing, we're making some very silly cocktails and getting our skin rubbed pink by a scrubbing mitt attached to the hand of a Korean chap who wants more money for the extended massage. (Not as dodge as it sounds, by the way. But, I'll tell you this, when I played the late show on Friday night at Scuba's, I was feeling very raw, as though vital parts of my vitals were slightly too near the surface of my body - I had been scrubbed to within an inch of my life. And I was almost too relaxed to play - but somehow......) Chicago plus Scubas always equals a good time. And Susan Voles, the lovely, came and played the violin with us for a John Prine cover (If You Don't Want My Love) and Our Lady Of The Highways, and then an impromptu performance of Annan Water at the end of the show. And Dang Juhlin, the tall and reckless, joined us for People Love To Watch You Die and Window Seat to finish off the late night Friday performance before we all did Wreck On The Highway together. Lovely. And Hinsdale? Well, it's a Unitarian Church and we'd had a great time when we played it before and we had a great time again. Someone bought me a Danny Kaye mini-poster for Walter Mite (for which, many thanks). The early part of the show was plagued by a condenser mic that was doing it's job far too well and belching ugly digital noises (the sound of condensation, I imagine) whenever I sang loud, but once the mic was replaced and the technical problems were a thing of the past, the gig fell sleekly into folk overdrive and was a pleasure. Towards the end, if you can adam and eve this, we were 'busted' by 'the man' - I didn't know anything about it, but there were noise complaints, and in came a policewoman. Presumably, she came in, realised that it was a contemplative man singing to the strains of guitar and mandolin in a church, and thought: 'This is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. I shall drop out and become a lovechild.' Or perhaps she realised that it wasn't that loud, that neighbours sometimes can't stop complaining even when there's barely anything to complain about purely because they're cantankerous arses, and she should leave the kids to their music. Which she must have done, since I heard nothing about it till after the show - not high drama, I realise, but surely worth reporting. ('Small Earthquake in Chile - no-one hurt' kindly deal.) Bethann took us to a wonderful bookstore in Evanston, IL, where I bought The Richard Hughes Omnibus, an engraving of John Wesley from 1790 and a Christmas present for my mother - which I shan't divulge because she reads this tour diary. Sh. We'll keep mum (as it were). And a couple of people ask me what books I am recommending right now. The answer is Ghostwritten by David Mitchell, new in paperback, and any of the four novels by W.G.Sebald. Go on. Treat yourselves. But don't blame me if you don't like them. I just calls 'em as I sees 'em. But I mostly don't recommend things - why should you like The Life And Opinions Of Tristram Shanty, Gentleman, just because I do? No reason at all. Worse than that, you might really dislike it. It might bore you. You might think less of me, or vice-versa. (I don't think CvS ever forgave me for recommending A Frolic Of His Own by William Gaddis.) And if you have never read it, read High Wind In Jamaica by Richard Hughes, of which there is a new paperback edition published by NYRB. It is very good. I am going on tour in Germany in January (25th onwards) until February 9th or so - details will be forthcoming very shortly. And then returning here for some more time off before the onslaught of playing, touring and visiting that accompanies my next record. In fact, I can't wait for the break after the McCabes show - I deserve a rest, goddammit! The trouble is, I never really feel that I need, let alone deserve, a rest, because I like doing what I do. (You may have noticed). But then I look at my schedule, and it's been insane. I've been home about four days since July - I've recorded an album in CT and CA and London, and I've been on tour when I wasn't doing that. Shouldn't I feel really tired and ill? I feel it coming on, like a hand on my shoulder. 'I am fatigue' says a ghost in my left ear. 'I have been trying to meet you but I couldn't catch up.' 'Oh,' I say and we immediately drive to Seattle.. Did you know that the gig at The Bottom Of The Hill in San Francisco on Tuesday the whenthever of December is going to be the only band show of the tour? (It isn't actually, but I'm not really allowed to tell you about the other one, as you can't go.) This means that on the Sunday we are in SF (but you don't know that we are - imagine that we're not) and then the next day, we play our folk show at The Freight And Salvage (scene of the recording of the third Blob - these gigs are always fun....) and then the next day we play a full BAND show at The BOTH. So come to both of those last two if you can. (Ignore the first one of the three.) They are bound to be entirely different because Robert and I are playing a very different set from The Radical Gentlemen. It's quite exciting. Then it's the end of the tour: one date in Vegas (oh yes!) and two in Santa Monica on Sunday 16th. And home. And rest, like they say in Yoga class. Which I have never been to. (For those of you who enjoy these kinds of things, here is the Microsoft Word 10% auto-summary of the above tour diary entry: "- David Bow-wow Echoes - Pink Floyd Live At Bodkin - Cheap Trick    Think slower. Write the tour diary later on. As ever, when we get to Chicago, my tour diaries disappear entirely. Why? I'm having too much fun to write a tour diary. Chicago plus Scubas always equals a good time. Lovely.    Well, it's a Unitarian Church and we'd had a great time when we played it before and we had a great time again. I've been home about four days since July - I've recorded an album in CT and CA and London, and I've been on tour when I wasn't doing that." Harsh, right? But it strikes me that this might be how David Bow-Wow writes his lyrics.)	29th November 2001 - early show Schubas, Chicago, IL David Lewis: You Don't Have To Lose Ramadan Moon By The Time It Gets Dark Let The Sunlight Dry Your Tears Jealousy's Antiques Your Kind of Madness Northern Sky The Rain Stops Everything Slowly Fading Evening Sky John Wesley Harding: Goth Girl (abbreviated) Sluts It Stays Infinite Combinations Sussex Ghost Story Miss Fortune The Person You Are Canadee-I-O You're Looking at me Same Thing Twice You So&So Sleeper, Awake The People's Drug Our Lady of the Highways Oh Bondage! Up Yours! (excerpt) Things Snowball Save A Little Room for Me - Wreck on the Highway
	29th Nov 2001 - late show Schubas, Chicago, IL David Lewis: Slowly Fading Evening Sky The Rain Stops Everything Northern Sky Jealousy's Antiques Your Kind of Madness By The Time It Gets Dark Ramadan Moon You Don't Have To Lose John Wesley Harding: Nothing At All The Red Rose & the Briar Pull Humble Bee Still Photo The Flandyke Shore People Love to Watch You Die She Never Talks Ordinary Weekend The Truth Things Snowball Our Lady of the Highways (w. Susan Voelz) If You Don't Want My Love (w. Susan Voelz) Window Seat - The Secret Angel Annan Water
	30th Nov 2001 - late show Schubas, Chicago, IL What Am I Gonna Do With You? Goth Girl Sluts It Stays The Red Rose & the Briar When the Sun Comes out Isle of France Save a Little Room for Me Monkey and His Cat For an Actress Little Musgrave Cupid & Psycho Things Snowball Our Lady of the Highways (w. Susan Voelz) If You Don't Want My Love (w. Susan Voelz) People Love to Watch You Die (w. Dag Juhlin) Window Seat(w. Dag Juhlin) - Window Cleaner Every Sunrise Wreck on the Highway    (thanks to Maria for    the set list)
#11: 3rd Dec 2001 Requiem Pour Un Con Orange - Al Stewart Rarities from the new huge boxed set - Serge Gainsbourg A CD of HipHop made by students in Chicago Note Pad #38 - Don Dixon We just gained an hour. Which is just as well because absolutely nothing has happened to write about since I last wrote this tour diary. We are hurtling through South Dakota as though it didn't exist. We are surrounded by snow. Foxes nervously play by the side of the freeway, consider crossing and then wisely don't. We stayed at a Motel 6 in Sioux Falls, where we took our evening meal at a fine diner. I asked if the 'Mountain Trout' was local and the waitress said: 'You think that anything could survive in that lake up there?' I guess not. The meal was a bit of a curate's egg. I always forget whether people in America know what a curate's egg is..... it was a meal, shall we say, of two halves. And then I turned on the tv in the hotel and there were two brothers from Sioux Falls at the news desk telling us all about the 'Weed Of The Week'. And now my hands smell of gas and we are somewhere near Wall Drug ('as advertised on a London Bus!'), which I have probably mentioned in a previous tour diary. When we are really bored, when we are truly bored, when it is dark and even music has lost its appeal to us, we play a game that has no name where we go through the alphabet in a circle and try to think of an album title that starts with that letter of the alphabet: Arrival, Bringin' It All Back Home.... Of course, there are rules: You can't have the same album twice. Bootlegs aren't allowed but semi-legal imports are. Eponymous albums won't do but 'Curtis Live' is acceptable as, I suppose, is John Wesley Harding's New Deal. X can be ignored entirely, though we found a few. 'The' can be ignored, but 'A' can not. There is no way to win or lose. Extra points for following up with a good thematic link. The best run was three live albums which finished with 'No Sleep Til Hammersmith'. There are no points really. And there you have it. What could be more fun than that? Give us a break. It's dark. We are driving thousands of miles to play for you.We are driving past South Dakota's original 1880 Town, 'as seen on the Discovery Channel'. I reflect that in eleven years of touring, I have taken my computer with me (since I had one) every time I went to dine at a restaurant, I have parked the car within eyeshot and looked at it nervously every now and then, hoping it would still tbe here, and I have turned on the tv every time I left a hotel room so that would-be criminals will think the occupant is within - and after all this, I note that no-one has ever approached my car, nothing has ever been stolen, and no-one has ever broken into my hotel room. And where has all that vigilance got me? Nowhere. So perhaps it is what makes me click. Either way, it makes me think good things about the human race. I've heard of computers being stolen while their owner was in the shower and van-loads of gear vanishing from a hotel parking lot. But none of this has ever happened to me - and, in a word: thank you. I think that we are, in fact, fairly cautious and careful when it comes to our stuff (musical and personal), but having something stolen like that is just bad luck. If someone's going to take it, it's gone. You can keep a beady eye on it, but if someone else has their eye on it too, you might as well leave it in the middle of Trafalgar Square with a large sign on it that says 'Take Me.' So far, touch wood, so good. In an odd coincidence, I note that David has been taken from the back seat. Oh well. We are listening to Don Dixon's Archival Remnants Series. Now we are going to go record shopping in the van - tough to do under normal circumstances, but not if you have recently downloaded a catalogue from Rockinworld.com for perusal at a later date. Get your check books out.	1st Dec 2001 Unitarian Church, Hinsdale, IL It Stays Sluts The Secret Angel Talking Gangsta Folk Scare Blues In Paradise The Truth When the Sun Comes Out Isle of France Sleeper, Awake Goth Girl The Original Miss Jesus Little Musgrave Humble Bee Our Lady of the Highways Things Snowball Save a Little Room for Me - I'm Wrong About Everything Wreck on the Highway    (thanks to Maria for    the set list)
	5th Dec 2001 Century Ballroom, Seattle, WA What Am I Gonna Do With You? Goth Girl Sluts It Stays The Devil In Me When The Sun Comes Out Isle Of France Save A Little Room For Me Monkey And His Cat For An Actress Little Musgrave The Triumph Of Trash Canadee-i-o (w.Kurt Bloch) You're Looking At Me Our Lady Of The Highways Window Seat - The Speed Of Normal Tell It To The Raven (w.Scott McOi) Wreck On The Highway
#12: 7th Dec 2001 I Got A Name Answer The Phone, Dummy - The Fastbacks We are leaving Seattle and driving to Portland and so we are listening to The Fastbacks finest hour. We had a remarkably fantastic time in the jewel of the Northwest, as you may see from the adjoining set lists, which will take a little explanation. Normally, I can't remember what I played. Robert and I, as a team, can work it out pretty easily but it has to be done very soon after the show, when you least want to do it. So it's very nice when someone sends in the set-list and we can print it out. But the day after this show, I sat to write down the list, and I wrote the songs out in exact order with no thought. Just as at the show, and though we don't make a set list in advance, as you might well have noticed, every song flowed naturally from one to the next. It was a remarkable gig, and a remarkable set-list to construct both during the set and afterwards. Part of this was due to the greatness of the venue itself. I'd never played the Century Ballroom before, just as I'd never played Passim or Eddie's Attic before - but we were very lucky with all these new (to us) venues, as people who have seen me, or anyone else at these places, will know. You live, you learn. Kurt Bloch, the minstrel in the gallerie, the designer of For Now by David Lewis, the genial genius of jean genie's gene pool, joined us onstage for a 'reimagining' of Canadee-i-o. Scott McOi, the minus one, the less than one, duetted Tell It To The Raven by Jimmy Silva, and then we all went for a lengthy drink at Linda's Tavern (sponsor of my old football team) where we outstayed out welcome: Kurt B, Britt, Scott, Bill, Stacey, Lulu, David L, Robert, David W, Kurt R - well it doesn't get any better than that. I shan't go on about this gig. It was one of the great gigs of this or any other tour (at least, it was for us). Partly it was the venue, partly it was the crowd, partly it was the fine dinner they fed us, partly it was the fun of being on Capital Hill surrounded by stores of interest, partly it was Ben Kwellar (spelling?) and his excellent opening set - and I can thoroughly recommend his new record, partly it was everything else. And all those parts added up to one. And it was a good one. A whole one. A minus one and a plus two. London Stone - The Bevis Frond I like the Bevis Frond and I bought this album because Barry Dransfield unexpectedly plays violin 'pon it. Superb. And yesterday, flushed with the success of the night before, slightly hungover, David and Robert and I went to eat breakfast at The Palace Kitchen, and then to a lot of our favourite places in Seattle - Twice Sold Tales, Sonic Boom Records, Supercuts (for David's haircut), Dusty Strings in Fremont etc etc. And in the evening, after I had taken care of some practical business (for even a 'folk deity' (thank you, The Boston Globe which I think of as 'The Best Newspaper In The World' - JWH.....) like myself must do the laundry and pay bills and fax signed contracts to the UK and and and. Thence to Jalisco's where an even larger crowd awaited us for our Thursday evening hang, which segued into an impromptu Karaoke session (see set lists) which was so much fun that I have decided to count it as a proper gig, despite the fact that we didn't exactly get paid, even in food. El Toro had the moves down. David pitched Nothing Compares 2 U way too high but bounded back with a victorious Daydream Believer which was the highlight of the evening for me, after which we left promptly. Kurt's superb Immigrant Song came a close second. I very rarely Karaoke, though I karaoked heavily when on tour in Japan, because, simply, it seemed rude not to. Karaoke is a great leveller - a kind of modern day Twelfth Night, when misrule rules. Everybody wins by not being afraid to reveal themselves in a truly humiliating light. There are two caveats however - if you think you're doing an old song, remember that someone else has done a more recent hit single version of that song that you hated - and that is certainly the version of the song that you will be required to sing rather than the more famous version that you love. Secondly, try not to watch the videos while you are singing: they will put you off. Many of the songs last night were visualised by someone who had some spare gear left over from the Renaissance Fayre. But the worst video was for I Got A Name (a great song and the only cover that Jim Croce ever had a hit with, coming, as it did, from the genius pen of Charlie Fox, who also wrote Killing Me Softly), the video for which consisted of people holding up signs with their name on them ('My Name Is Bob!') and then, for some strange reason, juggling. It was too much for me. One more thing about karaoke is this - you have no idea quite how bad Bon Jovi's lyrics are until you see them bouncing ball style on a huge video screen as some poor fellow attempts to win over 'the ladies' (as I like to call them) with a rockin' version of Wanted Dead Or Alive. (Could there be a colon in that song title? There should be. I'd like it if there was.) Picture this: 'I've seen a million faces And I've rocked them all' As Robert pointed out, having your face rocked by Jon Bon Jovi is a really nasty prospect. And that isn't even the half of those lyrics - check them out. I think he even has a loaded six string on his back or something equally dire. But, and I say this out loud, it may be simple fare, it may even be utter and complete shite, but it is a hit single and it sounds like a hit single even when sung by that guy fresh out of the Neil Diamond gig. I will never buy Wanted Dead Or Alive, cover it, and will endeavour never even to hear the song again under any circumstances - but it gets quiet, it gets loud, it gets quiet again. It's a hit single. The fact that Bon Jovi sang this on the Concert For New York left me dumbfounded. Who on earth was he talking about? And so to Portland, where I spend the day in the studio singing some backing vocals for a friend. And then back to the studio again on Thursday in LA where I am re-singing one line for the record, because I'm fussy. And there are only a few dates left of the Tour For Now - Portland tonight, a warm-up on Sunday night, Monday at The Freight in Berkeley which will be fun (as it always is, returning to the scene of the crime of Dynablob 3), and then Tuesday at The Bottom Of The Hill, where The Radical Gentlemen ride again. And then Vegas - a totally unknown quantity, so we'll expect the worst and be outrageously surprised or disappopinted - either would be good - (this is nothing to do with Vegas and everything to do with my outlook on life....) and then to Santa Monica for the last show of the tour - the last two shows in fact. And anyone reading this who lives anywhere near McCabes (like, within 100 miles) is coming to those shows, right? You can email me with your thoughts - two shows, and as the tour closer, we promise not to play the same songs twice in the night - book early to avoid disappointment later! Oh, and we'll also be trying to get rid of ALL our cds that night, so bring spare cash - Christmas is coming and I don't want to take them back on the plane....... Our love to everyone. This Bevis Frond album rocks and Barry sounds fantastic. Though now we have moved on to: Tiny Waves, Mighty Sea - Future Pilot AKA	6th Dec 2001 Jalisco's Karaoke, Seattle, WA JWH: Crimson And Clover (Tommy James) I Got A Name (Jim Croce) David Lewis: Nothing Compares 2 U (Sinead O'Connor) Daydream Believer (The Monkees) Kurt Bloch: Immigrant Song (Led Zep) Born To Be Wild (Steppenwolf) Senor El Toro: Last Christmas (Wham) Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen)
	7th Dec 2001 St.John's Pub, Portland, OR What Am I Gonna Do With You? Goth Girl It Stays Sluts The Secret Angel Humble Bee When The Sun Comes Out Miss Fortune The Person You Are Monkey And His Cat For An Actress Little Musgrave Cupid & Psycho You're Looking At Me Our Lady Of The Highways Window Seat - Sussex Ghost Story I'm Wrong About Everything Wreck On The Highway    (thanks to Gary for    the set list)
	10th Dec 2001 Freight And Salvage, Berkeley, CA What Am I Gonna Do With You? Goth Girl Sluts It Stays Little Musgrave Humble Bee Still Photo When The Sun Comes Out Things Snowball Monkey And His Cat For An Actress The Red Rose And The Briar The Triumph Of Trash You're Looking At Me Our Lady Of The Highways Window Seat - Sleeper, Awake Every Sunrise Wreck On The Highway
#13: 8th Dec 2001 1974 Simple Things - Zero7 Oh, Inverted World - The Shins A Star For Bram - Robyn Hitchcock We drive down I-5, just like the person in the last verse of Our Lady Of The Highways, on the long way to San Francisco from The Northwest. The NW leg of our tour was excellent. No empty gig in Eugene after term is over and the students have all gone home to bring us down - though unfortunately this also entails no trip to Eugene, meaning that we don't get to go to The Trading Musician. This time, it was just Portland, Seattle and outta there. And Portland was in every way as good as Seattle. All went better than well. What else? As yet, nothing. A long tale of car journeys and gigs. People have written in concern about me being 'fatigued' as mentioned in this very diary - Thanks for caring but don't worry. I was fatigued, and then I had a good sleep and now I'm fine. I don't have Cat Scratch Fever or Chest Fever and I haven't Caught A Light Sneeze (is that actually the name of a Tori Amos song? Sorry!) or contracted any other rock'n'roll disease ('The Clap' by Yes, by the way, is not named after the disease. I have this on good progressive authority) - I just got tired at some point due to a tedious habit I seem to have on this tour of waking up earlier than I really have to and that was that. And next Monday, after just a few more shows, I am taking a Christmas breather, with nothing to do til some dates in Germany (watch this space) at the end of January, and I intend to do more or less nothing: to watch some movies on my DVD player, to listen to some music, to go to the opera, to do some Christmas shopping, to walk the dog in the park, to buy some Christmas Alcohol and then consume it at a reasonable rate - I always feel that one should have a very well stocked drinks cabinet over Christmas, just in case relatives pop round (of which there is absolutely no chance over the entire Christmas period, at least in my case.) Too much alcohol is the ideal amount - you don't have to drink it, but you should have it around. Also, always have a bowl full of nuts in their shells. That is compulsory. Don't touch them ever. And now to SF for a late night arrival and then an early morning's football match at The Mad Dog before band rehearsal's and then a show. Things should get hectic by about noon tomorrow, or 8am if you count the football game, and then stay that way until we drive to LA on Wednesday.	11th Dec 2001 Bottom Of The Hill, SF, CA Sluts It Stays Monkey And His Cat Humble Bee People Love To Watch You Die 50/50 Split The People's Drug I'm Wrong About Everything Little Musgrave For An Actress You're Looking At Me Our Lady Of The Highways Still Photo Goth Girl Window Seat The Devil In Me - Wreck On The Highway Temptation Inside Your Heart Burn - If You Have Ghosts Bad Dream Baby
#14: 17th December Erdenflug - Flight Down To Earth Sorry I've been out of touch. Of course, if you've been to the shows, I've been right in touch. But the last week flew by and now the tour is now done. Cooked. Just like me. Except that I am also fried. We are done. Finished. I am flying home right now, on flight #10 to JFK, sitting next to a very pleasant Israeli woman who is fast asleep. I am trying not to look at the movie of The Grinch. It strikes me that they got this movie entirely wrong: throughout this version, it is The Grinch who represents the redemptive goodness of Christmas because he is set against Whoville, which is depicted (and I suppose, the filmmakers wanted to make some totally irrelevant contemporary statement as well as making a movie version of a cartoon) as a den of thieves and centre of crass commercialism. The Grinch hates Whoville - and who wouldn't hate Whoville in its movie incarnation? Is that the way the original reads? I don't seem to think so. Maybe I'm wrong. You Americans know more about The Grinch than the rest of the world. But have you met The Grinch? I don't need to see The Grinch on film, because I saw him in the flesh the other day, when David and I went to Universal City, for the Studio Tour which also includes close proximity to other more dubious delights - The Blues Brothers Christmas Revue, The Grinch muddling little children with his friendliness, and various other rides devoted to disastrously unsuccessful movies - Waterworld: The Show, Backdraft: The Experience, Howard The Duck: The Duck. Whatever. Silly stuff. But the tour was amusing. Who isn't impressed by having their illusions shattered? I have to mention that I am listening to the disembodied voice of a dead Red Falcon singing to a woman with no shadow. It's a Richard Strauss opera. The bloke who wrote this plot was insane. And what has happened since I've seen you? We played in SF and then Berkeley and then SF again and it was all good. The Freight in Berkeley was very very good. The band show was a delightful change and it was great to see the Gents again, with added attraction Kurt Statham deputising for CvS (on tour in Spain) on bass. And then we drove to LA and I finished recording my record (exciting) and then we were all ready to drive to Vegas (exciting) but then the gig was cancelled (what?) because they had double booked the room and so we didn't get to go at all (shame - but financially an attractive option, particularly when you figure in that I would have tired to parlay the merch money into a small fortune at the gaming tables, and most likely failed). And last night, we finished off the tour with two monster shows at McCabes - one was monstrously lengthy and the other was monstrously streamlined, like a huge Loch Ness monster that glides through the water and then only darts its head up out of the water when one insane old codger is watching. That was the first gig. The second gig was long. We were undergoing end of tour euphoria. I made myself laugh. And now David is on a plane back to England - travel safe, Dr.Dave - and I am on a plane back to JFK, and Robert is on a plane back to his house, which is certainly more of a metaphorical plane, because he is already in his house and has been since just after the gig last night. Here's four random things we did in the last few days: The Museum Of Jurassic Technology - on Venice just past Robertson. This is my favourite museum in the world and you should all go there. If you need to be persuaded, there is a great book about it called Mr. Wilson's Cabinet Of Wonders, or I think that's what it's called. I'd hate to ruin the surprise of one of the few places in the world that has the capacity to surprise. The Magic Castle - how we quite got in, I don't know. But it seemed like we weren't going to get in until those kindly guys at Highland Grounds coffee shop heard that I wanted to go and made a few phone calls. We were rather ill-attired, but once David had changed his trousers and we'd all put on ties and sport jackets, we were granted entrance to this most magical of magical places. And we saw some good magic. Tricks. Clever stuff. Illusions. And then we had a big argument about whether the woman who he called up for one of the tricks was a plant or not - reader, she wasn't. And this was later proved to be true by the coincidence that we knew someone else who had been to the show earlier on in the week and it had been a different woman. We all love The Magic Castle, with the piano that somehow plays any song you ask it to play, and the funny mirrors, and the clandestine door that you open by saying 'Open Sesame'. Go there if you can. Well, we did do other things too. Oh we went to the new Amoeba in LA where I bought a lot of Herzog DVDs and David finally found King Strut And Other Stories by Peter Blegvad that he has been looking for for ten years - ever since Peter played the song at a gig of mine, I think. And there it was. $7.99. A dream made flesh. And one more little collecting need disappears down the plughole. Whatever will he look for next? We ate at Jones. And we ate at Ammo. The mashed potatoes were very good in both, but I'd give the mash at Ammo the edge. In SF, we ate at Zuni, where nothing has the edge over Shoestring Fries and Oysters. Oh yes. We have been living large. In order to bring you the music that you want to hear, that you deserve. And now we are done. As I keep saying. And rather than looking back at this tour - this great tour, this happy and well-supported tour - I choose instead to look forward. Firstly, to a long whole off over Christmas. And then to futzing around with an album cover and so on. And then to a trip to England to see my sister in her pantomime (she's Maid Marion) and then on to Germany to do a few rather laid back dates with The Barkins, who have kindly asked me to go over there and play with them. And who am I to say no? Opportunity Knocks! And I'd just recently been thinking that I wanted to head back to Germany where I haven't been since I toured there with Steve Wynn just before Awake. And then I'll return here and ready for the release of the (as yet unnamed, but newly finished) new album, which is supposed to hit the stores on May 14th. And then touring with The Radical Gentlemen and the resumption of this tour diary. I'd write one at home but it makes me too self-conscious about my life. When I'm on tour, I'm all yours, however. Thanks so much for reading. It wouldn't be the same without you. Nor would the shows. Nor would anything. And a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.	16th Dec 2001 - early show McCabes, Santa Monica, CA Sluts It Stays The Speed of Normal Little Musgrave When The Sun Comes Out The Truth People Love To Watch You Die (with Kirk Swan) I'm Wrong About Everything (with KS) Still Photo (with KS) Monkey And His Cat Our Lady Of The Highways (with DL) The Triumph Of Trash Windowseat (with KS)
	16th Dec 2001 - late show McCabes, Santa Monica, CA David Lewis: You Don't Have to Lose (with JWH) Ramadan Moon Your Kind of Madness Jealousies Antiques The Rain Stops Everything Northern Sky Slowly Fading Evening Sky (with JWH) Things Snowball(with JWH) Let the Sunlight Dry Your Tears JWH: Goth Girl Pull The Secret Angel She Never Talks You're Looking At Me The People's Drug Canadee-i-o Same Thing Twice Save A Little Room For Me Me Against Me When You Smile For An Actress Humble Bee Annan Water (with DL) Every Sunrise (with DL) Burn The Devil in Me - Wreck on the Highway (with DL)
	Other Road Diaries Fall 2002 Winter 2002 Fall 2001 Spring 2001 Fall 2000 Furthur Tour 1996 WesWeb.net home
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