Shinybass journal entry 04-30-13

Go West, young man…

Good Tuesday morning to you!  I really have no words of inspiration, no ‘Save the World’ websites for you, and nothing to get you moving today.  How can I possibly be a motivational speaker this week when I am a day late in my post?  A bit hypocritical, I would say.  Kind of like seeing a Muslim at John Berryhill’s.  It just ain’t right.  So here’s hoping that you can all pull yourselves up by your own bootstraps and get moving towards what you want.  Without all of my shiny happy people rhetoric.

How about I get right to the meat of the touring week?  We started off flying to Phoenix Thursday night for a Friday show. That naturally meant we were at the airport.  Some of  you saw my picture with the guitar in the trash. If not, here’s a recap:

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Well, it wasn’t as random as you may think.  Jeff asked if we would watch his guitar while he went to eat.  Being the shit-stirrer I am, I told Brock and Andy to shove it in the trash and take a picture and send it to him the next day.  Well, as fate would have it, going in was a lot easier than coming out.  So I snapped the ‘evidence’ picture of Brock and Andy wrestling with the guitar for a solid 3 minutes trying to jimmy this thing out.  And the other airport patrons thought it was even funnier that I just snapped pictures rather than help.

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So after the brief hi jinx, we were off on the short 3 hour cattle-packed flight to Arizona.  I like the weather in Phoenix right about now before the Summertime gates of hell are opened and the eggs fry on the hoods of the retired folks’ Caddies.  The week was a little much for me with work and the house preparation, so the few hours’ sleep I was working on left me just wanting to go to bed.  Of course then because of the time change, Jdawg and I were up at 5:30, heading to eat and walk around by the hotel before most normal people even wake up.

Our gig that night was for the Arizona Draft Party held at the stadium.  If I could bottle up the weather and have that for every show this summer, I would.  It was a perfect 70-degree night for a concert, and the band played their asses off.  We celebrated our greatness with a few patio beers back at the hotel, then somewhere around 12 or 1 I went to bed, with a 3 hour drive to Indio ahead of us in the morning.

We usually bus or fly everywhere, but this time it made more sense to rent a couple of Suburbans and drive through the desert in leather-clad style.  Driving it makes the time much prettier – especially in the desert – because in the sub or on the plane we really don’t see much.  Windows down, cameras blazin…

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So then the massive logistical nightmare known as Stagecoach.  First, the festival has credential dropoff and pickup a full 10 miles from the show site.  That doesn’t make much sense to me, but what do I know.  So everyone who has VIP anything has to stop at the Indio Tennis Club.  Maybe they are trying to drive up membership there.  As we get to the artist village backstage (which was another parking/golfcart headache), then we realize that it’s going to be well, Summertime gates of hell hot today.  Temp at showtime – 104.  But it’s a hot heat.

It’s definitely a fun hang backstage at this festival.  There are activities (like a king-sized Jenga game) and california-king sized covered lounge beds.  Yes, backstage curtained lounge beds.  These are important to a successful festival.  And all the bikini-clad women and shirtless musclemen you can shake a stick at.  And of course, the occasional celebrity.  We were able to wrangle a picture with Ashton Kutcher before his hyped early exit from the festival.  When asked about the regular occurrence of being asked for a picture, he said ‘Man, it’s life.  It’s all just part of it.’  And he was cordial and nice about the whole thing, which leads me to believe he was not in the wrong in the security guard altercation.  Stagecoach security was neither (or neither) friendly or helpful, so I’m sure this wasn’t the only meltdown that weekend between the headsets and the fans.

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After a (literally) blistering hour-long set where my amp overheated and my bass was hot to the touch, I was in need of a big ol’ shower and a long sit.  I will say this – catering at Stagecoach is top-notch, and they really shine in this department.  Not only are there lots of healthy choices and 6 kinds of iced tea, they also had two of my favorite words in the same place.

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We finally made it to our resort accommodations about 10PM, and after a long, hot shower I was finally able to just sit and have a beer.  It was a nice feeling, although I didn’t cool off until somewhere ’round midnight.  Or maybe it was the plane ride back to Nashville the next morning.  Either way, we made it home safely, not sunburned, and with another Stagecoach performance under my belt.

So there’s your short recap of the dusty week that was.  One of the first things I do when I get home is usually head to the grocery store, since I prefer cooking to dining out.  I stumbled upon this product, which made me thankful that I am bald.

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Keep on your course to happiness – whatever your end goal may be – and remember that the hardest step is the first.  (There’s your Tony Robbins for the day).

Enjoy the beautiful week ahead, and keep checking Phil’s tour schedule – it’s about to be a crazy, crazy summer.

See you on the road!


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