DIARY OF A ROAD HOUSEWIFE, PART 3

Summer/Fall `99

Let's see, where was I? The past few months have been a blur of Southwest flights, cardboard boxes, culture shock and car problems. I tried to maintain the appearance of having a career this summer by travelling to Texas in early July to play some shows. What at first seemed merely a good way to avoid packing turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable musical (and physical!) experience. The hot Texas sun and wind were truly refreshing after the stench of a Brooklyn heat wave. I drove my rental car from Dallas to Austin, stopping for biscuits and gravy in Waxahachie, traded my mules for flip-flops and joined Rob Patterson for a trip to Shady Grove to catch Ray Wylie Hubbard playing a live radio broadcast under the trees. It was sheer relaxation drinking beer and listening to Ray with the likes of Rob, Troy Campbell, Patty Griffin, the lovely Ms. Judy and little Lucas. Ray has a great new album out, "Crusades of the Restless Knights", learn more at www.raywylie.com. And if you've never seen him live, he's simply one of the warmest, funniest people to ever grace a stage. My hostess Sharon Roos tucked me in with Bach flower remedies and I rose early for a morning radio interview with Mr. John Ealy at KUT. My host was a tad icy but seemed to warm to me a bit when I mentioned thrift shopping and flea markets – yes, I can spot a fellow shopper. I joined the bohemian masses diving into Barton Springs before heading over to soundcheck at Cactus Café. This turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable show with a great audience. All the cliches about Texas being big and loud work best when it comes to appreciation of music. Alejandro Escovedo and band were exceptional – aren't they always? Afterwards, my attempts to pick up the adorable soundman failed but a listen to the self-released album he gave me indicates it was probably for the best.

I was really looking forward to the 4th of July at Cibolo Creek Country Club outside of San Antonio – I'd talked Denny the owner into letting me play his backyard barbeque. Unfortunately it rained like hell and we had to move the show inside, but at least now I can say I've played a hundred-year old Texas dance hall. During a particularly contemplative song a train came roaring by directly behind the stage – now that's Americana! I played three sets, ate ribs with Mervin the cowboy poet, learned what a coozie is for and had a great time. We watched fireworks from the tops of picnic tables and I vowed to return soon. Many thanks to my pal Bill Conley for driving down with me.

After a day or two of pure relaxation (walks around Town Lake, heaps of Mexican food and margaritas, movies galore) I was ready to head off to Houston. I love driving in Texas – I think the speed limit's about 100 and the radio is a treat to listen to. My visit to KPFT in Houston was the complete opposite of KUT, my gracious host having actually listened to my albums and apparently happy to have me visit! I enjoyed a dip in the pool at the Allen Park Inn (recommended by old buddy Jean Caffeine – authoress of an excellent album "Knocked Down Seven Times…") and went over to the Mucky Duck for my show - my sincere thanks to Rusty and Teresa for booking me! A bunch of people showed up and we had a good time – I even got a singalong going, which the punk rocker in me abhors but the folk singer in me accepts as survival skill. Enjoyed milk, cookies and soft porn on cable (you know those ones where it's from the "woman's" point of view? And she keeps imagining some handsome stranger who resembles Zorro? And all the furniture looks straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue?) I fell asleep dreaming of kilim rugs and three-wick candles…

I had the next day to hang out in Houston. I ate an incredible hot dog at James Coney Island, saw a Nan Goldin photography show (ah, Lower East Side memories) and visited the Menil Collection – a truly aesthetic experience. Drove to Dallas at sunset and checked into a bizarre, timeworn yet hospitable hotel directly across from Dealey Plaza. The lobby was full of young people who I learned were Army recruits being housed on entire floors of the hotel. I felt a certain glee that here were these youngsters being indoctrinated into a life of regimentation and I was free to do whatever the hell I wanted! Of course what I wanted to do consisted of watching a BBC show about the history of Abbey Road studios while checking my e-mail. I enjoyed driving around Dallas the next day and spent several hours in the Book Depository Museum, a very emotional experience. Played at the Gypsy Tea Room that night and was happy to meet some of Dallas' more discerning music fans. Won a TV theme song quiz in the wee hours at an anonymous bar, fueled by Jack Daniels and egged on by the nattily-dressed locals.

Next day as I attempted to return my rental car to the airport I was deeply disturbed to find a dearth of gas stations at the appropriate exit. I was dangerously close to missing my plane, but refusing to play Alamo's expensive game I set off on an odyssey to find the Texaco I'd spotted from the highway. Three exits back towards Dallas I did, only to be told when nothing came out of the pump that "there was no fuel delivery today, miss". Enraged, gunning the engine on what little vapor remained, I screeched out of there while frantic fellow drivers gestured wildly at me, pointing and motioning as I flipped them off. Pulling into a functioning BP station and jumping out of the car, I was mortified to see an entire gas hose, handle and all, still stuck in the tank and dangling fifteen feet behind me. Tempted to keep it as a trophy (and guilty enough to consider returning it) I sheepishly laid it aside and made it to the airport just in time.

Between numerous trips to the Salvation Army to get rid of a quarter century's accumulation of thrift store clothing and a decade's worth of used coloring books and Barbies with missing limbs, I managed to fit in some Northeast shows. Enjoyed travelling up to Boston with John Abbey, Jon Graboff and Joe McGinty to play at the Lizard Lounge – thanks to Billy Beard who takes time out from being an absolutely stellar drummer to book this venue. After several solo shows it was a treat to be accompanied by such excellent musicians and a joy to have someone to talk to in transit. During the set, some bachelorette party revelers threatened to drown us out but I managed to shut them up with chilling tales of marital life post-honeymoon. Next day, we moved on to Killington, Vermont where we spent the night in a ski chalet and played at the Nightspot, in the same building that houses the excellent radio station "The Web". I tried my best to achieve a Claudine Longet-like insouciance as we played a fun set for the locals. Can't wait to come back when the chair lift's running.

I was thrilled to be asked to open for the great John Hiatt at the Bottom Line in New York City (Ha! – I begged and cajoled Alan Pepper for 2 months). Hiatt even did me the honor of criticizing one of my songs during his set – proof that he was listening! The next weekend, I reprised Mike Nesmith's "Some Of Shelly's Blues" for a Loser's Lounge Best Of show on my final night as a Brooklyn resident (for the moment, anyhow). I left the Fez and drove down Bowery with "Freefallin" playing on the radio (is it just me or does that damn song come on during every key emotional/transitional moment? Or perhaps the song has the power to trigger those feelings of epiphany?) Either way, I was feeling very sentimental when I turned onto Delancey Street and was stuck in a 2 AM traffic jam at the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge! Somehow it made the thought of leaving the next morning a little more bearable…

Gotham's fabled magnetic pull did its best to keep Hazel and I from reaching our new home in Nashville. The U-Haul's transmission gave out in the hills of Pittsburgh, forcing us to transfer everything we own into another truck. My mantra for this trip became "Well, it could be worse" as it happened a block from my parents' house. Several other near-catastrophes occurred as my brother John and Hazel traveled in the new truck with our oversized, hyperactive cat James who I'd been too cheap to provide a carrier for, resulting in clawed upholstery and frayed nerves. We relaxed at a motel somewhere in Kentucky, unable to make the last hour and a half of the trip without first watching a Raquel Welch movie. Forty miles from Music City the tread blew off my tire and wrapped around the rear axle of the car. I now know the wishes, hopes and dreams of a couple Kentucky auto mechanics as it took hours to locate a new tire and a committee of six to get the old one off.

What can I say about moving that you haven't heard - suffice it to say I'm still young enough to bear children but I don't know if I'm young enough to ever "start over" again! Where did I put Hazel's medical records? You mean I have to take an emissions test before I can register the car? How many degrees is it going to be today? I swear I just had that alternator replaced – no I can't take it back to Columbus to get them to honor the warranty! How do you work a hose? Who do I have to murder to get the phone number of a babysitter around here? How long can I sit in traffic before passing out from the heat? There's a reason nobody down South wears black! Don't you people realize that lack of confrontation can lead to early heart attacks?

But…you mean that's MY driveway? I don't have to move the car? I thought all liquor bottles had to revolve on a bulletproof lazy susan before being sold to the public! You have time to help me? You'll actually take a check? You'll take my WORD for it?! I may decide to adjust.

People have truly been sweet since we got to Nashville. Denise and Duane Jarvis threw a lovely welcome party for us. I played an in-the-round at the Mucky Duck in Houston w/Greg Trooper and Bruce Robison – I'm thrilled to be closer (but not too close) to Texas now! Played at Carrollton Station in New Orleans and made a couple Northeast trips to satisfy my need for toll roads, overcrowding and interesting footwear. Got to share a bill with my new Nashville neighbors Stacey Earle and Mark Stuart in Titusville, NJ and was thrilled to perform at the Newton Colony Arts Festival with iconoclastic genius Jane Siberry and the very lovely Jess Klein. Also caught some of Mike Errico's set (I've really enjoyed his album "Pictures of the Big Vacation") and the ever-entertaining Mary Lee's Corvette (another favorite of mine is Mary Lee's "True Lovers Of Adventure") – this was the first year for this festival and I hope it was enough of a success that they'll do it again! Why did I have to leave the tri-state area to truly appreciate the wonders of Jersey? Maybe "The Sopranos" is getting to me…Back to Nashville to play with my Koch labelmate R.B. Morris, celebrating the release of his exemplary new album "Zeke & the Wheel". It wouldn't be Naked Nashville without an in-the-round at the Bluebird, this time with Bill Lloyd, Don Henry and George Hamilton V – we had so much fun the soundman had to dose us with feedback to put an end to the proceedings.

Constant trips to Kroger and Target have tolled a death knell for my old Pontiac. I've met half the good citizens of Middle Tennessee in my search for a worthy used vehicle - something to get me out of here on a regular basis! Although where else can you see Chet Atkins eating matzoh ball soup, Jimmie Dale Gilmore ordering a toasted bagel and Steve Forbert and Rosie Flores (at separate tables!) tucking into huevos rancheros, all in the same day?

I just received a call – Mr. Bad Example, Warren Zevon, is out on the road again! I'll be joining him for several shows including House of Blues at Disney World…do they really think that's a good idea? I'll let you know what happens!

Amy