I didn’t get much done this weekend, or at least not as much as I had planned. I’m still fighting this cold/cough combo that grabbed me in the temperature battle royale last week. I should actually be in the other room finishing up some concert photos, but when I walked into the kitchen to toss out the Chinese food I saw a few stars peaking out from behind the clouds, so I decided to settle down and crank out some thoughts in my “cafe.” So… back to the tour.

Day 2: Buffalo
The booking agent – I want to beat him senseless. That was one of thoughts drifting through my head while driving the 4.5 hours from Albany to Buffalo. Not so much because of the Albany – Buffalo leg, but because of the Buffalo – Vermont leg which would take me through Albany again. Kind of like going from NYC to Chicago by way of Los Angeles. Not exactly… but kinda…

I can’t remember much of the drive anymore and that’s probably a good thing. It’s probably worth clarifying at this point, that the show wasn’t actually in Buffalo, but in Williamsville, which isn’t much more than a couple of strip malls and crap load of car dealerships. I drove down to the venue first, which I passed by twice. I was looking for the band’s name on the marquee, but it wasn’t there, so I kept missing it. It seemed a little odd.

After locating the club, I drove to the motel which was a straight shot up the road. I found the tour bus, so I knew I was in the right place. Now at this point, only the tour manager knows I’m following them around so when I spot the bassist walking down the hall, I decided to hang back a bit (I don’t want them to think I’m stalking). I got the little key card for my room. After some fumbling with the lock the door swung open, and I was greeted with a smell, that can best be described as “ass.” Not the good kind, as in “I’m getting some ass later.” It was the bad kind, as in “geez dude, your room smells like ass.” Ugh. I noticed the ass smell all over the hotel as I walked around, so I decided not to try and get an assless room. I dropped the bags off, locked up the camera and laptop, grabbed my Rolling Stone and decided to make for a cafe to kill a few hours before the show. On my way out, I run into the drummer who gives me the “what the hell are you doing here” look. I just shot him a quick remark, something along the lines of “swanky pad huh?” Then I bolted.

Now in this little “city” there are basically two roads, so I decided to try going left. After about 15 minutes I found a Starbucks in one of the many, many strip malls. So there I sat, with my Rolling Stone and my mocha frappe. I sat and read. And sat and sipped. And sat. And sat.

Yeah. Weeeee.

I finally decided to head back to the motel. My hope was that the ass smell as gone, or at least less concentrated. On my way, I spied an Arby’s and just had to have a Beef N’ Cheddar. I used to be ashamed of my Arby’s love, but after talking to a couple of “normal” people who shared my little food fetish, I’m proud to admit that I enjoyed my Beef N’ Cheddar, and the curly fries that came with it. So there.

So I’m now, finally returning to the EconoAss. As I’m walking through the lobby my cell rings. I can’t place the area code on the display, but I answered anyway. Turns out it’s the bassist. I’m not exactly sure how he got my number but there are some theories. At any rate, he’s wondering if I can help them out with a little errand and so about fifteen minutes later, my SUV is packed with a guitarist, a bassist and a guitar tech, and we’re in search of a health food store. We had the address so we started driving down the road. We cruised for about 20 minutes and we seemed to be heading in the right direction – the numbers were going the direction we wanted them to. We were looking for 5415. We ended up stopping at 5417 or something like that, but there was no health food store in sight. What the hell? We call the store and they inform us, “Yeah, you can’t count on the numbers in this town. They don’t mean anything. You’re about 20 minutes away in the opposite direction.” Doh.

We finally get to the store and everyone proceeds to shop. I’m so stoked right now. I’m running errands with the band. A band I really love. How cool is that. Maybe a little pathetic, but still pretty cool. There’s another stop to be made at the Williamsville equivalent of a Rite Aid. The bass player heads into the store. The guitar tech is on his cell, which leaves me and the guitarist, who I always act like a dumb ass around. Except, something has happened. I’m having an actual conversation. We’re talking about the state of radio. I’m explaining what I do for a living. He’s telling me about a new project he’s working on. We’re just chatting. And it’s good. And I’m not a dumb ass. I guess there’s something about getting lost with someone else in Williamsville that kind of bonds you. Or at least gives you the ability to carry on a conversation.

I drop them back off at the bus which is now at the venue and I park around front. I made a couple of phone calls and then went inside. The venue was great, great sound, decent lighting, nice bar. However… by the time the guys come on, there are maybe 8 fans standing right in front of the stage, and maybe another 15 in the rest of the venue. The promoter dropped the ball. The guys put on a fantastic show as always. And, I got a song dedicated to me – “Folsom Prison Blues” – Johnny Cash, very cool. But also a little strange. During the quest for the health food store, I told the guys about this dream I had the night before that involved Johnny Cash & Soundgarden… but I didn’t tell the guy who dedicated the song, and neither had they… spooky.

After the show they invited me on the bus for a beer. I tried not to overstay my welcome, so I took off after a few minutes.

Next leg… Vermont.

SONG OF THE MOMENT: Sonic Youth – “100%”