Day off #1 of the tour, near a highway in Michigan. The avante-garde comforter designs, stucco ceilings, and generic Irish lobby pub (O’Malley’s!) of the Holiday Inn remind me of the avante-garde comforter designs, stucco ceilings, and generic Irish lobby pub of the last Holiday Inn I was in(n). We have three shows under our belt now. I’m not going to talk about what my hands look like. Maybe I should talk about what’s new on this tour. Joe. Joe is new. Here is a photo of Joe eating his Cheesy Poofs:
Joe is playing bass, banjo, guitar, and keyboards with us on this tour. He’s like that valuable utitilty infielder guy that can play shortstop, second base, left field — he’ll come out of the bullpen and pitch if you need him to. Joe helps us pull off the new album material and adds his little je ne sais kwah joe thing to some older stuff. Last night we opened up the Cincinnati show with Mona Lisa. We would have never done that before The Joe Era. Oh, go here — www.joepisapia.net — Joe has a solo record and it’s a masterpiece. Also, Joe had a zit on his lip that looked like herpes the other day (“looked like”), but it’s gone today. I blame myself for not having the digital camera ready during my window of opportunity.
What else is new. Gordon is new. Gordon is the six foot six Canadian guy mixing our band on this tour. He turned 40 on Monday, so Ryan got him an “I’m Gordon, Kiss Me, I’m Thirty” shirt (in “fancy” font) and we presented it on stage in Elmira. Pasty put on the house lights, the crowd passed the shirt back to the sound board and Gordon, looming above the crowd beneath the spotlight, revealed his naked chest and tried on his gift. There are many reasons to like Gordon. Let me count the ways. When I asked him to pose for a photo for the road journal, he didn’t question the banana or the toplessness, he just ripped his shirt off and struck the pose:
One take, mind you. No lengthy photo shoot necessary. Gordon spent many many years on the road with the Barenaked Ladies, and is spreading the controversial and subversive theory that tour busses “can actually handle a poop or two.” If Michael Stook, our driver, EVER learns of this, he will fight Gordon to the death.