Archive for August 2005
Going Home
Wanna’ hear the sound of heartbreak? We’re rolling south on I-35. I’m the new guy on the bus. It’s a little bit awkward. I’ve already solidified my outsider status by putting Death Cab For Cutie on the CD player. Mike’s playing, “Where you at?” Crank calling a Hooters and asking, “Where you at?” His ability…
Read MoreA Frequency To Change My Mind
The granite buildings of Omaha were glowing orange in the sunset. Smitty, Mike, Jason and I were racing to The Sokol Underground for my opening set. “I’ve never seen so many radio towers,” I said. “Broadcasting so little,” Jason said. The Nadas spend plenty of time transversing the highways and byways of Middle America. It’s…
Read MoreListen Through the Static II
In fifteen years of making records, I don’t think I’ve ever really had a plan. I’ve made more than a dozen records with a handful of great producers, but I don’t think we ever possessed a clear vision of the process or the outcome when we started recording. Sometimes it works (“Love & Other Indoor…
Read MoreGet Back
If I injure my back on tour, can I write of the massage come tax time? Who knew rocknroll could be so dangerous? Last Friday night — actually, it was Saturday morning — I was lending The Nadas a hand in their load out of Sokol Underground in Omaha, Nebraska. It was a fabulous night.…
Read MoreDo It Again (And Again)
As far as my mother is concerned, I am finally a bona fide success. The Nadas are midway through the second set of their third night at the Iowa State Fair. The Anderson Erickson Amphitheater is jam-packed. Josh Davis and I are pacing backstage, sharing a water to sober up. He’s fiddling with his hair.…
Read MoreBeing Here
The skyline is cast in a hazy, orange glow as I wrap up my day high above New York City. I call Chris and Jen to see if I can visit. Ethan answers the phone. “Hiiiii!” “Hi Ethan! It’s Uncle Benjamin.” “Ben-ba-ben!” “Ask Mommy if I can come over. Can you save ‘come over?’” “Come…
Read MoreIf There Was Fight In These Bones
I’m back. I mean, I know you know I’m back in New York City. What I mean is that I’m back. It took a minute, but I’ve got a groove. I’m walking fast, talking fast, and generally moving at a blur-inducing rate. Is this a good thing? Probably not. But it beats feeling stranded at…
Read MoreLong Walk Home
I’m drinking a beer on my deck looking up at the clouds thinking, ‘Where did the sky go?’ I thought I had a pretty good patch of sky reserved for myself. As New York goes, I guess I do. Some nights, when the light’s just right, I can even see a faint star or two.…
Read MoreListen Through The Static
The signal to noise ratio in New York City, as I recall through the static haze of memory, is high. For every police siren, taxi horn, and chattering hipster back in the big city, there is a cricket’s chirp, a locust hum, or distant train’s call here in the heartland. Makes a guy think. Makes…
Read MoreWhat Are You Waiting For
I’m an hour late for the Wagner family reunion in Grundy Center, Iowa, and I’ve yet to wash last night’s show from my skin. This much I will say for now. There is a wave cresting here in Iowa. It’s a melodic, driven, and distorted din. It’s rooted deep in the great and rich soil.…
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