NOT SO GRAND RAPIDS

In principal, a city's name does not require any relation to its actual physical properties. City names are much more arbitrary than that, by and large. For example, Los Angeles has no real angels flying around lost and with a home; Buffalo certainly is NOT where the buffalo roamabound, nor does Great Falls Montana have any real falls anywhere in sight. But in the case of Grand Rapids Michigan, I was a little disappointed with the lack of rushing river water. Where were these famed Grand Rapids?

When we arrived in town after our 7 hour sojourn from the great north, I couldn't really get a bead on the vibe of the city. It's a university town, for one, which usually means lots of students roaming the streets and misbehaving. But there were no students to be found, with the one exception being the stage hands and interns at our venue. The venue itself was quaint, with rows upon rows of theatre seating and a large wooden stage, complete with a grey-blue curtain and some circus style lights in the front. The name of the place was the "Ladies Literary Club," and was founded in the first half of the 20th century as a place for ladies young and old to come engage each other in book banter and crumpet eating. I don't think it's still used for this same purpose, being somewhat of an esoteric and dusty enterprise in the internet age. The room itself sounded fantastic, with a good amount of natural reverb and sonic balance. I watched Shara and Brian jam on some Sonic Youth-ian noise from the back of the auditorium, taking it all in, and imagining a little circle of 1950's housewives jawing on about JD Salinger and Edith Wharton and so on. A somewhat small bummer was the fact that the venue was a "dry" venue, meaning no alcohol would be available on the premises. No biggie. I guess this was because of the venue's affiliation to the Christian college around the way.

We took a stroll down the street after sound check to find some food, Tim Fite and Greg Fite in tow, and stumbled upon a charming little Pub/Restaurant near the venue. I had a mediocre Tuna melt, Brian destroyed a garden burger, and we were ready to rock. I boldy took it upon myself to find a little hooch in this sleepy town, jogging for a good mile and a half before coming to "Martha's Vineyard". I got a little whiskey for Brian and myself, and headed back to the venue to catch Tim Fite's set.

With the auditorium setting, Tim Fite's act was in full swing. He delivered his jams with the fervor and madness of a pentecostal preacher making the rounds in the deep south God circuit The audience watched, half-terrified, half wildly-amused. After a bit I got my threads on and got ready to roll. Since we're on the "11-fingered tailor" tour, we get to dress to the 9s every night, and it feels like every night is my senior prom. It's the bomb.

After our set, we had the help of a team of students from Calvin College, the chrisitian school right down the way. We've been used to the fat, moustached, cigarette-smoking union stage hands over the past year, mostly because of our opening slot with the Decemberists, so this was a real departure. It was a little funny watching them tremble under the weight of our gratuitously heavy gear, but we appreciated the help nonetheless. Once load out was finished, Brian and I got to throw around our glow-in-the-dark frisbee on the quiet street in front of the venue while James finished up with the merch sales. All in all, the show went off without a hitch as per usual.

We stayed the night with friends of our close MBD family member, David Michael Stith, whose artwork has graced our T-shirts and is featured on "bring me the workhorse." Ken and Suzanne, whose wonderful house provided a welcomed feeling of comfort and care, were great hosts, even busting out some amazing artichoke dip and red wine. We talked late into the night about interesting things, and finally called it an evening around 2:30. Brian and I slept on two comfy couches and awakened in the morning to the smells of home made quiche (sp?) and coffee.

As a digression, I must say that Michigan has the best apples in the UNIVERSE. I had 3 last night from our dressing room, and one this morning, and I can without equivocation that Michigan apples are a superlative fruit. The first bite is crisp and juicy and succulent, and the rest is just as good. Seriously, I love a good apple, and for that reason Michigan is at the top of my fruit-bearing states list, just ahead of Florida, for its oranges and orange juice, and Montana, for its huckleberries. Another Michigan observation is that people in Michigan drive like total fucking lunatics. It's amazing anyone arrives anywhere alive.

We are now on the road heading to Chicago, where we will play the Lakeshore Auditorium tonight. I'm excited for Chi town because I will get to see my Brother Ian, who just moved there this summer with his wife Rachel and daughter Ava. She's the cutest. And what's more, Ava will soon be a big sister!! I'm going to be an uncle twice over!! yay!! I digress. This should be a fun show, and I will cross my fingers for some interesting things to write about tomorrow.