Flagstaff, Arizona

The art of playing high; Hugs for everybody; Eyes wide shut; New Mexico.

Five straight shows at Rocky Mountain altitudes should be good training for the Cali run that starts tonight. Some high-altitude clubs, like The Belly Up in Aspen, Colorado have oxygen tanks right by the stage. I’m not sure what John Denver was referring to when he sang about a “Rocky Mountain High”, but speaking as someone who essentially breathes for a living, I’ve found that one symptom of depriving the brain of air by playing the trumpet at higher altitudes is a mild euphoria caused by brain cells merrily dying off. This can also cause headaches, fainting, nosebleeds, brain damage, and eventually, death*, but it only gets really hard to play brass instruments at around three thousand meters or so, which I discovered playing a wedding at a ski resort. There’s just not enough air up there for the horn to do its thing.

Kim warming up before a show in the high country.

Groundation’s Rockies run was great. Many thanks to all those who came out. Not every show on this coast to coast tour was phenomenal (I won’t name any names), but what makes a good show good? Is it a matter of cheap drinks? A sick light show? Good sound is important, of course, but usually it comes down to the chemistry between the band and the audience. When we perceive that fire in the crowd we play better, which makes the crowd more excited and so on. It’s nothing less than an emotional feedback loop. It spreads like fire; it spreads like love.

 Live music affects people in different ways. Some dance or sing along, others stand in the back and nod their heads. Some folks apparently like to talk on their phones. For some reason many couples think the front row at concerts is a good place to snog. Why is that? I’d love to hear from our fans on this. Because of where I stand on stage I have a lot of interaction with the people in the first few rows. Usually, they’re complete strangers. Some of them might shout out requests or ask for set lists, drumsticks or guitar picks. Sometimes, people (who are almost always drunk) pick up our percussion instruments and play them. This is not appreciated, thank you. A young woman once beckoned me over during a song and asked if I had a first aid kit: “Probably not a bad idea to keep one handy, miss, but…Unless you’re in imminent danger, perhaps I should finish this song.”

Front row, stage left, and the people who hang out there.

The real challenge is to get someone who’s standing there frowning with their arms crossed to dance and smile with the power of the music. If you can do that, you know you’re doing something right.

When people are into it it’s obvious. At the end of one song in Milwaukee, a guy from the audience hopped on stage and gave me and Kelsey big hugs, then jumped back down and stood there waiting for the next song. The next time I looked down that same cat was right there, hugging our monitor speaker.

Blissful ignorance.

Once, at a festival near Sacramento, I opened my eyes to see a naked guy dancing around in front of me. I took a discrete step backwards and didn’t open my eyes again for the rest of the show. Nowadays, I usually keep my eyes closed when I play because it’s easier to concentrate. Down in Charleston last month I was playing a difficult solo part when I felt someone putting their hands on my belt. Kim? Stephanie? Harrison? I tried to stay focused on the music as I felt long hair lashing against my neck. Turns out an excited fan was dancing around me like I was the pole at a cheap strip club. At some point, Nicodemus, our multi-tasking tour manager, escorted the woman offstage without a bit of fuss. I never once opened my eyes: I’ve learned my lesson. I never even saw that fan’s face until later that night when she plowed her car into the side of our bus in the parking lot of The Pour House. Just another show.

 

Taos Peublo in New Mexico

After Colorado we played at KTAO, the solar-powered radio station in Taos, New Mexico. Not only is it in a beautiful location, the folks there show us great hospitality. We slept late the next morning, and on our way out of town, we drove by Taos Pueblo, the cultural and spiritual center for the Pueblo people. The Pueblos effected the most successful resistance movement in the history of the Westward expansion in North America, and Taos Pueblo is a symbol for Native American pride across the country. It reminded me of who Groundation’s biggest fans have always been: people around the world who have invited reggae music to coexist with their own culture, because the music speaks of love and the hunger for justice. We’ve learned a lot on this tour.

 As I write this, nearly the whole band is sleeping. The RV flying down Route 66 through the pine forests of northern Arizona. Just after dawn, a rainbow came along the starboard side of our weathered vehicle, beckoning us westward for the better part of an hour. The sun at our backs now will be in our eyes before we finally see the Pacific Coast at Redondo Beach. Thanks for tuning in, see you in Cali.

Please feel free to leave comments here, and let me know how you like the new format.

“Diesel” Dave Chachere

Groundation

*I’m just kidding about all that death stuff, it just sounded exciting. I did hear a story, however, about the trumpet player in the Ringling Brothers’ Circus who died of a massive brain hemorrhage while playing his part. The musicians’ union made the circus hire a backup trumpeter to help with those lethal high notes.