September 11, 2007
P.O. Box 12078
Cincinnati, OH 45212
We built the last fire of September on Nowhere Farm this past Sunday evening. Opened a good bottle of wine, sat by the fire, looked at the Ohio milky way spilled extravagantly over the ancient maples.
I took the last bike ride of September yesterday evening on my little six mile route through the fields before dinner and watched the sun set turning the clouds silver and every shade of rouge imaginable.
Early this morning before sunrise, a thunderstorm got into a tussle over the house and Elroy climbed into bed with us for the duration.
We walked the paths when we got up after morning rains. The golden rod is turning, the fields are starting to turn a warm yellow, and there’s a goldfinch sitting on a late summer nest in one of our little locust trees.
It’s time to say goodbye to the farm once again. We’ll be home in October.
Over the Rhine’s Trumpet Child tour heads West this week beginning with two SOLD OUT shows at Seattle’s beautiful Triple Door. Check OverTheRhine.com for upcoming tour diary updates and photos. Karin’s first Trumpet Child tour diary entry (Release) is enclosed at the end of this letter.
A couple of late matters of business:
We are going to need at least two merch volunteers in each city on this upcoming run. If you’d like to help us out, pls send an e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org, with the following in the subject line: “MERCH VOLUNTEERS (Date, City, State).” In the e-mail, pls include your first and last name, e-mail address and cell phone number, along with those of anyone you’ve enlisted to help. If you don’t hear back, it just means we’re covered for that date. Thanks so much – a big help to us.
And check out OverTheRhine.com for new Trumpet Child ring tones (a first for
us?) and more fun stuff. (And we’re finally announcing the t-shirt design winners (!) this week: stay tuned.)
We’ll see you out on the great American highway.
Without further ado, over to Karin:
Tour Diary August 30 – September 4, 2007
From the pre-show in-store book-benders at Jo-Beths, to the Big Band gala glory of moonlit Moonlight Gardens, to the sweaty rockin’ out toxic swill of Lexington’s Dame, to the radio friendly song seekers @ Nashville’s 3rd & Lindsley, and home again…
So that’s how you rock and roll through jet lag? Ok. I get it. Carry on then.
One UK/European run done, one CD Release weekend, four months on the road to go, and we’ll call that a good start. We’ll talk about 2008 later. I’m going to have to take it one day at a time for a while please.
We’re greasing the gears, padding our lumpy, bumpy van bunks with books and feather tics, Jake’s casing up the amps and holding her steady, and Mickey’s trying to figure out how to bundle his menagerie of skins and toys to strike and smack, and we’re taking our vitamins and diffusing essential oils, packing our best clothes.
I’m spending as much of the next few days as I can at my peaceful farm with my sweet furry hounds and one old cat. Brandon, Dave, Nick and the guys will do much the same with their wives and sons and daughters, friends and family, no doubt questioning why the hell they are leaving their homes for what Robbie Robertson dubbed a ‘goddamn impossible way of life’ anyway. And all the while knowing it’s what they do.
And we’ll give Elroy a treat, a Great Dane sized hug, and tell him how we’re going to try to make him proud and bring home the doggy chow and that this is what we were born to do like he was born to run. We’ll throw the Frisbee as far and as hard as we can for the Weimie. And scratch his chest till his eyes glaze over and tell him what a good boy he is.
You know, all those things that you say, YOU the reader, the listener, and all the things that you do for us� you often follow up a compliment with ‘I’m sure you hear this all the time’ and we smile and try to find a fresh way to say, ‘Yeah, but if you only knew how badly we needed to hear it today’ and smile and only say thank you.
Bill’s bouquets remind me that yes I really am a girl and I love that (!) and Keith offers civilized and extravagant gifts of wine that we treasure for special celebratory moments at home. And then there’s Kent and Sue flying across the Midwest to spend their holiday weekend with us. Kylie and her infamous ornery sweetness – does she know how many big brothers and sisters she really has?
You all (far too many to mention by name) have NO IDEA what you mean to us. And in our often hectic pre-show agenda and our post-show stupor we fumble around to find the words and only come up with Thank Yous. We wanna do better.
West-coasters, we’re coming your way. It’s always a gift, and we’re bringing new songs and looking forward to seeing some faces, old and new. All good faces. Let this CD Release Party continue on…
I think often about the word Release and what it means to us and to me. Our feeble English language where one word bears the weight of so many disjointed, misfired, slipshod meanings and interpretations.
What it meant to my old girl Willow when she took her last breath and heard the word whispered in her ear, Release.
What it means when an entire year (or more) of your life is devoted to the making of a recording of music (and the songs that probably took thirty + years to mature in the oak barrels of your soul) and how it feels when the little brown box comes to you in the hands of a stranger in a delivery uniform, and you sign the Release form and run inside the house and cut carefully the sealed edges to reveal the lovingly (Rob Seiffert) designed digipak inside. Is it like giving birth and graduating this life force all in one day? At one moment responsible for everything and then for nothing as it is Released out into the world, all completely out of your hands?
So, I guess I need to mention that I haven’t had much spare time to document all the tour diary festivities of this past month. Really, it’s all a little blurry. Hopefully these words will do.
With Elroy’s help, I woke today at 8:30am, plodded outside in my PJ’s and turned on the desperate sprinkler underneath the maple trees that have started dropping entire limbs (!) because it is so dry. Took the boys for their morning walk — I walk, they tear through the paths — threw the Frisbee for the Wiemie, played rope-a-dope with the Big Guy (that’s Elroy, not God, although… I’ve played rope-a-dope with God on numerous occasions) and made a pot of Chuck’s best coffee.
Linford is still sacked out. I would be too, but I took the first morning home shift with the boys. He will take his turn tomorrow.
I love all this. This is the only reward I’ll ever need.
Ok, and maybe the occasional gorgeous bouquet of flowers.
And maybe the odd, one-off dog-shaped statue from Sophie and her sweet folks from Alabama.
It was awfully good of WRLT to broadcast our set over the Nashville airwaves. All of you folks down there remember to thank them for us. We’ll be back in December to do another show with them – this time at the Belcourt.
And, yes, Brad Jones will be there. Heaven only knows what he’ll decide to play this time. He can play whatever he pleases as far as I’m concerned. Would that we could clone him so he could continue to produce great recordings at his studio while simultaneously touring the country with us. That man should have a twin!
Fats will be weaving his melodic tapestries on the road with Kevin Welch and Kieran Kane for much of September. Catch them if they’re in your neck of the woods. We’ll try to grab Fats again as soon as possible for some more Over the Rhine time.
I’m sure we’ll be kidnapping Paul Patterson away from the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra as well, as allowed. He is positively Herculean. (!)
Molly Felder will be joining us from time to time out there on the great American Highway. Between full time motherhood and her wonderful music with Swan Dive, she’s got her hands full. Molly is always welcome to sing and swing with us. I think Linford describes her best — a bundle full of joy up there on the stage. And an incredibly talented one, at that.
Ok all. We’re comin’ atcha with our black-eyed Susans. Let’s play.
And most of all… Thank You.
Karin (and Linford)
PS Special thanks to Misty, my guardian angel liaison and metaphysical traveling companion.