:: mike errico diary ::

:: Thursday, December 30, 2004 ::

Last gig of the year

12.28 - Funk Box, Baltimore

About 3 traffic-addled hours into a drive to Baltimore, the booking agent calls us to tell us that the power is partially out in the club. Not totally out, just partially. He says it's up to Baltimore Gas and Electric to fix it in time, or not. The gig is imperiled -or I should say, partially imperiled. We decided to continue driving down and to hope for the best. It's an acoustic guitar, after all... they were meant to be played around campfires, on porches, while dangling bare feet off slow moving cargo trains. Power is not a necessity. This isn't Motorhead (which is sad, but that's another story).

We get there, and realize that the situation has not changed. The emergency flood lights have been redirected towards the stage, and the staff is antsy for a night off. I am not. A couple of calls are made, groaning emanates from the ticket office, from the promoter on the other end of the booking agent's phone, from the two opening solo acts, from various bassists, and finally, the club decides they can rig a sound system up from one of the plugs that works, and proceed with a very minimal system. The show must go on.

The show, in fact, does go on, and while the solo acts are playing, Blake and I head off to CVS to pick up a bunch of tea lights to spread around the darkened club and pitch black bathrooms. We figure if it's going to be dark, let's add some atmosphere to the joint. Plus, there seems something wrong about wandering through a pitch black public rest room. Nothing good can come of an activity like that.

The third band, a trio, manages with the very stripped down PA system, and the only disappointment for the musicians is that room has a great sounding main system - that is, when the electricity is available to power it.

We decide we're not going to change our set list to fit the candlelit nature of the club. We step on stage, strap guitars on, prepare to hit "Daylight" hard to wake the room up, turn to Ellinghaus for the count off, and suddenly we're standing in the dim glow of the 30 tea lights that we sprinkled around the club. The PA and guitar amps are dead. All the power has been cut off by the Electric Company and they will be working on it for the rest of the night.

So.

Turner and Ellinghaus step off. Ellinghaus lights the rest of the candles and places them, "VH1 Storytellers" style, all over the stage. Blake straps on my backup acoustic guitar. We place two chairs on the stage, look at each other, laugh, and play our set by candlelight. I'm singing my head off to fill the room, and playing hard, even though it's so dark I can barely see the neck of the guitar. And it was awesome. People sang along, and I left a section in the set to take requests, which included new material from "Tallboy", which I was very psyched about.

What a way to end an incredible year, just sitting around the campfire with friends, banging out songs and singing along. It couldn't have been better.

Happy New Year
m

:: mike 8:20 AM [+] ::

* What are Holiday Omens?

Holiday Omens are symbols, large and small, given out to the audience in random fashion every year at the Holiday Show. The Omens foretell a theme in the recipient's New Year: a career shift, a creative turning point, babies, weddings, divorces, and much more. People have been both ecstatic, and terrified, by what they pull out of the Omen Bags, and that is partly the point: the recipients receive an Omen, and from that point it is up to them to figure out why the Omen has picked them.

see you there



:: mike 1:24 PM [+] ::

New interview on Freshtracks.com




:: mike 1:12 PM [+] ::

HOW TO SWING

:: mike 7:10 AM [+] ::

HOW TO ROCK

:: mike 7:06 AM [+] ::

Ireland

played a radio show today, my second here. they gave a whole hour, and i just went nuts, played everything, added in recorded material, and tried to speak phonetically in gaelic, and destroyed it suitably. always good radio. the dj loved it.

www.wlrfm.com on monday, if you want to check out the streaming version...



:: mike 1:07 PM [+] ::

The Point

Damn, this is a good place. Nice to play philly solo. New material is good.

Ireland is coming together.

Things are good. I'm psyched.

m

:: mike 10:32 AM [+] ::

When I'm reading, I'm writing.

Why do I keep forgetting that? It's like the Marquis de Sade says in the movie "Quills": beware anyone who writes more than they read.

So, I read a great book, 'Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer', about crazed fans who travel the south in RVs following the Alabama Crimson Tide's football team. Really smart, funny, and interesting. Road stories from a different kind of road.

As a result, I finished a song I'd been working on for months. The song has nothing to do with the book, but that's how it always is. It's like reading, and the jumble of words, knocks something loose. I think the song is called "Run". Nothing to do with football. I swear.



:: mike 8:39 AM [+] ::

playing catch up, here:

holy cow, i can't believe so much is going on. no choice but to give three sentences on everything:

FUNK BOX (MD): Great great band show, with the pics to prove it in the gallery section of the site. (not so) sad has become a total favorite, and the fans in MD are amazing. It's always such a joy to play that city, and we have WTMD to thank for much of it.

DETROIT: A great solo show, and a new song waking up and fitting into the set with all his brothers and sisters. It's fun to witness that. We got back to the Detroit zoo, but this time the polar bears really had that look of out-of-work actors moping around a coffee shop, groaning, "I was almost on "king of queens" - i gotta get my headshots together. uhhhh."

THE SPACE, CT: What can you say when there's an open mic after your set, and someone who's driven from Boston plays "When She Walks By"? I was blown away. He does it better than I do.

MAXIM SWIMSUIT DVD: Yeah, "be your man" playing under models with sprayed on sweat clutching vice grips and pretending to fix a catalytic converter while making out. Whatever. Should be out this October.

FUSE CLUES: New TV theme for a show on FUSE network, co-written with my man Blake Morgan. They're threatening to change the name. Whatever it's called, it's scheduled as a definite GO for October.

sure. somebody get some sleep for me. thanks.

:: mike 9:01 AM [+] ::

Last night in Farmingdale was pretty classic.

The Downtown is a cool place that has pretty big names for being in such a sleepy section of Long Island. Nice stage, hilarious double doors that open out into a big, low space that DEFINITELY was used as a strip joint at some point. The stage must have had a pole run straight down the middle once upon a time. And there I was.

As I started playing my set, I noticed a weird clanking sound coming from stage left. Spoons. Someone playing them. I looked over and saw an older guy - much older - holding a long neck Bud and playing the spoons along to my songs. I always think I've seen everything - when will I learn? I stopped before "Skimming" and asked him if he was professional. He kinda slurred his words and muttered, "Nah. I just come here every night."
"And you play the spoons while bands play here every night?"
"Uh. Yep."
I checked the schedule of coming attractions over the bar. "You know, I see that Flock of Seagulls is coming next week."
 "Yeah?" The name didn't register.
"Are you going to play the spoons with Flock of Seagulls? Because by now I bet they're so angry about playing 'And I ran' every night that they might jump off stage and kill you."
The old man smiled good naturedly. "Nah. They wouldn't do that."
I paused.  "Would you like to come up and play the spoons with me?"
The crowd cheered him on, but he became bashful. I placed my chair and a microphone up next to each other. "The invitation is open."

Half way through "God" he decided to stumble up on stage and sit in the chair. I gave him a solo before the second verse. He took it. I don't know what rhythms he was locking into, but it was vaguely interesting, and more just bizarre. Still, it was nice to have company. He was smiling and concentrating and basically having the time of his life. The crowd cheered him on, and after the song, he stumbled back off stage, but not before telling me, "I like you. You're good. I'm here all the time, I'm going to tell them to have you back. You're great. Thanks a lot."

Hey. Flock of Seagulls might kill him, but I won't.

:: mike 5:47 PM [+] ::

"As a result of the war, corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed. I feel at this moment more anxiety than ever before, even in the midst of war. God grant that my suspicions may prove groundless."


President Abraham Lincoln - November 21, 1864
:: mike 3:00 PM [+] ::

Animal from the Muppet Show, on eBay

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=5907471755&ssPageName=ADME:B:LC:US:1


Animal from the Muppet Show has been sitting on the left speaker in the studio, and it's now on eBay, to make room for more buttons and knobs --

it'll be sad to see him go. he's the best drummer ever.
:: mike 1:00 PM [+] ::

july 4

coming up... i'm here, working on working...

shows dotting the calendar sparsely

writing about randomness and the feeling of being on the high dive. the pit in the stomach, the expansion of everything. and the dive.
:: mike 9:08 AM [+] ::

fish in the photo gallery.

thanks celia and kelly, whose 9 yr old sister named her fish mike-o and errico. as promised at steel city in phoenixville, pa., the fish are up in the gallery.

no one is sure which fish is which, but that's ok, i guess.

they're great.


:: mike 8:19 AM [+] ::

holy shit.

nickelback, feel the wrath for sucking

brutal.

deserved.


:: mike 3:51 PM [+] ::

mercury lounge w hamell on trial, solo

was i going backwards, or returning to my roots with this one? i struggled with the thought backstage. it felt familiar, reminiscent, and sometimes that can be unsettling.

hamell? what does he care? he's got a Marshall head and a Peavey PA cabinet. he's got an old gibson acoustic that ROARS. he's got more things to say than song structures to squeeze it all into. he's got a shiny head that's beaded with sweat before he hits the stage. he traveled 7,700 miles in 11 days for 13 gigs in one stretch. and he's very cool.

"what the hell do i open with?"
his friend, also clean shaven, recommended a few titles.
"yeah," hamell considered. "i ... i... i can DO those, i suppose. i just... wonder. you know, it's about the first song. once i know what the first song is, the rest of the set just snaps into place." he fell silent, and continued violently stretching the strings out on his beat-up Gibson until the top string snapped. "God damn, I hate that. Better now than later, I suppose. have you read dante?"
"me?"
"yeah. i'm reading this book about dante. fucking great. so what do i open with?"
i didn't know his stuff well enough to call out titles. "how about that one that everyone loves? why don't you open with that?"
he smiled. "hey, that's an idea. you better put that one in your set, too."
"yeah, i plan to."
"atta boy."
"what do you do about that one that you love, but everyone else is confused by?"
"oh, i have one of those." he paused. "tough call. i say play it. but play it with an open ear and mind. sometimes they'll tell you what you can't see, the fucked up part that you been hanging on to from the early incarnation of the song. take it up, take it down. i'm not saying the bastards are RIGHT, mind you. i'm just saying that they may have a valid point that you can learn from."
"what about that really fun one that everyone needs to hear, but you don't like to play anymore because it's from an earlier incarnation of your life?"
"mmm." he stopped tuning, and ran his hand along the top of his head. "my 'walk this way', you mean."
"sure."
"tough call. actually, no, it's not. fuck the audience. i mean, not FUCK THE AUDIENCE, but don't expect them to know what they want. they're going shopping. they might pick up a hat, or a chair or a lamp that they didn't even know they wanted. you gotta make room in the set. room for the new. people are reluctant. we can't be."
i smiled. "ok, then, what about that new new one that you just wrote this morning, that's still wet and screaming? do you kick it out of the nest and play it, or hold off?"
"hm. what is this, fucking twenty questions? but they're good ones... don't play it. not here, not in primetime. get it together where you want it, then kick it out of the nest. but i know guys who'd disagree with me. like they need to know what's working by throwing prototypes out the window. i don't like it. we're...entertainers, after all. they paid money. i say don't play it. but you... you go right ahead." he smiled, devilishly.
"nah, i'm not planning on it, either. how do you structure your set list."
"it's shaped like a 'W'. every time. all the time. hit em hard, first. first impressions, right? right. then you bring it down, give them the softies, for the ladies, and all. kick a couple killers in there for energy, then back down, then... and this is what i do... open it up for requests, and leave 'em screaming. works for me, man. i've seen people do other shit, like being all weird at the top, and then building steadily over the course of the set, and leaving everyone totally hyped. i can't do that... i don't... don't have the balls, or something. i need 'em from note one. gotta be nailing it from the top. but i respect the other way of doing it."

the soundwoman, jessica, knocked on the backstage door. "mike, five minutes."

"cool. just out of curiosity, would you play..."
"what the fuck, are you the CIA tonight? i'm giving you all this advice, you're not helping me pick my first song at all." we laughed.
"well, i'm not TAKING any of the advice."
"that's wise, because i've given you all of my worst ideas."
"fantastic."
"don't mention it."
"i'm sure you'll find the right one."
"you, too. have a great one."
"you too."

i got on stage smiling, and smiled through the show. thanks, hamell.


:: mike 1:11 PM [+] ::

pet peeves for june:


tv game shows with categories named "TV". this category quietly elevates the medium into the realm of "knowledge", using itself as its own propaganda tool.

airlines that serve chicken on planes. eating birds that can't fly while floating effortlessly in mid-air is difficult for me to reconcile.

unmarried people over 25 who refer to their lives as 'extended adolescence'. i wonder what they think they're late for.

inanimate products wearing sunglasses in commercials. it's just annoying.


:: mike 8:52 AM [+] ::

Cornell graduation

My sister Melanie graduated Cornell this weekend, I was up there with the family, walking those crazy hills, watching her friends fire potato guns into the lake. In case you don't know how to make one, here you go.

Congratulations, girl. NYC will be more fun with you here.


:: mike 11:52 AM [+] ::

the WBAL Baltimore Five o'clock news piece apparently came into the label today. so psyched to see it. little kids, sitting around, singing every note of "god" and "someday"... too good to believe.


:: mike 5:43 PM [+] ::

at a coffee shop this morning, someone asked me the last CDs I bought.

1) the walkmen - bows and arrows
2) mercury program - a data learn the language
3) paul mcCartney - RAM (i think it's the record he made after the beatles ended)
4) morphine - best of morphine

playing them over and over and over and over...
:: mike 12:01 PM [+] ::

NYC

Benefit for the Lightning Strikes Theater Company, with several actors, singers, including Mary Lee Cortes, again. Funny, never met her, now it's twice in a week. She's cool, I like her work. Turns out I know her husband, producer Eric Ambel. Alt rock guy.

variety show style, bad sound, but good crowd. i'll take it.

played:
springtime
daylight
happy
:: mike 8:47 PM [+] ::

god bless christopher walken

god bless the cowbell
:: mike 12:01 PM [+] ::

writers in the raw, asbury park, nj

w/val emmich, mary lee cortes, patrick fitzsimmons

asbury is hilarious. i love it there. it's always raining on the clowns' faces that are peeling off the walls along the beachfront. they drip in a sad way, and the streets are almost completely empty and shining.

harry's roadhouse was different, though. it's very new looking, and the place was full. people have been hearing 'grace' on WBJB, so it was great to give it to them live.

i passed the Saint, and a big ol' tourbus was parked outside, violating a major rock rule: never arrive in a vehicle bigger than the venue you're playing.
:: mike 11:55 AM [+] ::

WTMD Concert in the Park Series

One of the greatest days I've had in a long time. I hope to get a gallery of shots together for it. WBAL picked up the story of a school that's been singing my stuff. I can't put into words how great it felt for me to hear a class of 3rd graders singing along with me to "someday" and "god"

THE NEWS LINK
:: mike 1:01 PM [+] ::

wolf trap, DC with da vinci's notebook

these guys are a lot of fun. they travel the comedy circuit, mostly, and do a lot of a cappella. they have a morning show hit called "enormous penis" and have cracked the code on how to find an audience. i have a lot of respect for that.

we sang "shook me all night long" together. fun.
:: mike 12:58 PM [+] ::

state college with matt nathanson

great guy, great show. i hope to play with him in the future again.
:: mike 12:57 PM [+] ::

someone smashed my front windshield with a 2 x 4 the other day. how do i know it's a 2 x 4? because it was left next to the car, along with a pointy 80s shoe.

some one-shoed junky too weak to break the glass with his best shot is now on my shitlist. if you see him, beat his ass.

thank you

m
:: mike 12:56 PM [+] ::

unbelievable new gallery of shots from the mexicali blues show in new jersey:


http://www.pseja.com/errico/


a thousand thank you's to eric



:: mike 3:53 PM [+] ::

You Could Be Anywhere -
2004 mike errico


Have I been mistaken
To believe that you’re even out there to find?
Haven’t I been patient?
Have I waited long enough to have seen a sign?

All I know is that I’m here and all alone
And you could be anywhere, anywhere

Are you just a rumor?
A thought that crossed my mind while thinking up ways to pass the time, are you
Wishing I’d thought of you much sooner
While you force a wounded smile for one more store bought Valentine?

High and low, I’m searching but I just don’t know
And you could be anywhere, anywhere

I’ve been sleeping on my feet
I’ve been all the secrets I can keep
Inside me
I don’t know what more I can do
If I can’t find you
Will you find me?
Will you find me?

High and low is all I know, and I’m just talking to myself until you show
And you could be anywhere, anywhere

You could be anywhere.


:: mike 3:50 PM [+] ::

some time has passed.

we've played a lot.

maybe you were there.

maybe not.

we had a great show with Carbon Leaf at the Recher in Baltimore, and several other awesome shows in NYC and surrounding areas. New songs? sure. that is happening. i'm doing a residency in brooklyn to work some of them out, now.


:: mike 3:34 PM [+] ::

March 3
Oops

I woke up at the Comfort Inn in Cave City, KY, and checked my email. Penis enlargement. Breast enlargement. Stomach reduction. Debt reduction. Nothing in this world is the right shape or size, is it? If it were, no one would be able to make a buck. We'd all be ... gasp ... happy.

I checked the message board to see what was up. One subject read, "Where's Mike?" or something. People had gone to Birdy's to see us. The gig had been scheduled for last night. I was in shock. The club never called. No one ever called. I checked my mish mosh of itineraries. There it was. March 2, Indianapolis. Holy shit. In all my life, I've never straight up missed a show. I've not been able to get to shows in time, but I've never 'missed' a show. Until today.

It's been a hard day. I apologize to you, if you went out to the club.


:: mike 3:29 PM [+] ::

March 2
day off - i thought

As you may have noticed, our schedule has changed over and over. Contracts and directions and advance sheets have been sent by fax, email, word document attachment, voice message, everything but smoke signals. As a result, confusion has reigned, and I thought we had a day off. So, we went to a National Park. For those of you who don't know, but have keenly sensed the foreshadowing, it was not a day off. We were supposed to be playing in Indianapolis, at Birdy's, the place where the woman swam across the dance floor in a tiara, clutching a bent princess wand... you'll have to look back at other tour logs to find that story. The three of us didn't get a chance to make new Birdy's magic like this again. We, as I said, went to a National Park.

This is not a rock and roll thing to do. I was against it. I suffer from exposure when I'm standing in a parking lot, or beyond a 1/2 mile radius of a club. But you know? This isn't a solo tour, anymore. One must quicken to the new life, as Queen said. So we took into account group tastes. Toby happens to like the outdoors - he's a very earthy, cool guy who's been trying in vain to eat well and live according to some unexpressed principles of chill. Turner, it turns out, is an avid bird watcher, and saw a big National Park on the map while consulting it instead of our itinerary, which was, as I said, out of date. He made it known that, after all this sticky-floored club crap, and all the hours in the car (many of which he drove), a little nature hike might suffice for two recent, thwarted bowling excursions where we couldn't get a lane. (we only seem to want to bowl on league nights). As if to underscore the point, he suddenly whipped bird watching binoculars out of his backpack, topped himself with a hard cover copy of "Field Guide To Birdwatching," and stared at me, daring to call him a sissy.

Me? What do I care? I am awash in the world of tour, with no idea if the shows we're going to are still going to be there when we get there. Plus, I love it any time somebody knows something I don't know, and God damn, do I know nothing about bird watching. So we turned on Queens of the Stone Age and veered off the highway, en route to an off-season bear and cougar sanctuary known as Mammoth Cave National Park.

There were maybe four cars parked in a lot the size of Yankee Stadium. I thought of our tax dollars. I thought of New Deal programs. We were off the grid, off peak and off season. Souvenir shops were closed, their proprietors ambling around decrepit house boats off the Florida Keys, whistling Jimmy Buffet tunes for at least another two and a half months. Camp sites and cabins were boarded shut, winterized, and trees still only vaguely considered pushing out a new bunch of greenery for the tourists. The park ranger, who looked like a depiction of a young, fat Abe Lincoln at a wax museum, smiled from behind the empty visitor's center desk, and when we asked where we should hike, he simply pointed towards the woods. We stared at each other in silence, and Turner finally shrugged. Toby and I followed him into the trees.

We saw a yellow rumped warbler, apparently uncommon, as they usually are in Mexico by now. Several species of woodpecker were observed, as well. Turner seemed disgusted at my every move - somehow I routinely found the loudest twig on the dirt path to snap while he was trying to focus on a cardinal, or hawk, or something. Every time I saw a beast with wings, I'd yell back to him, incurring about 40 code violations in the bird watcher's book of etiquette. He is incredibly patient, though, and eventually we quieted down. "We" being mostly me.

I don't remember the last time I was in the woods. The quiet calmed the three of us down, and after about 15 minutes, we began whispering, and then only occasionally. I am amazed at all the ambient noise in cities, New York City most of all. Being in the woods was the greatest rest my ears could have gotten. It was blissful. After they had rested a while, I began picking up all the crazy sonic details of the woods; hundreds of bird calls, woodpecking, squirrel emergency bells as a hawk swooped overhead, looking for lunch. I looked over at Turner, and he just grinned, as if to say, "Told you so."


:: mike 3:28 PM [+] ::

mar 2-3

deleted.
:: mike 7:03 AM [+] ::

March 1
exit in w/ Keller Williams

sold out show. kind of a blur. keller williams is the nicest guy on the planet, rivaled only by Lou, his soundguy. i only got to play a short set, but it was a worthwhile one, in front of a great crowd. many were not sober. i love people all blasted on ecstasy. they're so kind. they see the good in people, in themselves, in music and art and life. is it the drug talking? sure it is. but that's ok. i like talking to the drug. unfortunately, the drug needs people to inhabit in order for us to converse. so it wears people like a summer dress, or sometimes several at a time, and what fun we have! we talk about all sorts of things! other drugs! barfing! the urinal in the men's room that's overflowing all over everyone's Birkenstocks! i enjoy talking to the drug, no matter who it's in.

the show was solo, and the boys left early. turner has caught a cold. toby is concerned about some stomach thing. me, i'm ok, for now. i'll probably contract both conditions in the coming days. i have a long, long way to go.

:: mike 7:01 AM [+] ::

weird junk mail. but junk mail from the dalai lama can't be that...junky, right? i don't know. i don't fuck with the lama. if he says it, it's completely and totally correct. we americans have nothing to say that can top the lama. we have no culture. we eat burgers and jog the mall, even when it's sunny out. we wear sweatsuits for the elasticity of the waistband. we take our loved ones to Shoney's after church, and stare vacantly at them for decades. we squint into the fog of the future, and think the lama is cool, because he seems to have a pair of glasses.

actually, i think he does.

so, anyway, this was forwarded to me today, sandwiched between penis enlargement e-mails, and something about group sex with a dog. enjoy, and please send me my very pleasant surprise:

This is what The Dalai Lama has to say on the millennium, which began 01/01/2003. All it takes is a few seconds to read and think about. Do not keep this message. The mantra must leave your hands within 96 hours. You will get a very pleasant surprise. This is true even if you are not superstitious. Instructions for Life in the new millennium from the Dalai Lama:

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
(what do you think i'm doing out here, lama? sittin' on the couch watching golf?)
2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
(that's a michael jordan quote: quit stealing wisdom from mumbly basketball players.)
3. Follow the three Rs: Respect for self, respect for others and responsibility for all your actions.
(you know? aretha said it better, and she doesn't send me junk mail.)
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
(i never understand things like that. i find it hard to pat myself on the back for lack of self knowledge, inability to actualize, and THEN having good fortune to step into something better. it seems undeserved. although i hate to crap on being in a better place than the one I thought of, so i'll shut up. preach, lama.)
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
(is proper rule breakage technically "breakage" at all, or am i just being a dick? both, probably.)
6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
(the hidden lesson of "goodfellas")
7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
(except if you're playing music. if you make a mistake, go to the nearest half step, and you're most likely in key. and then either repeat it a few times so it sounds like you meant it, or forget it ever happened, because you'll only make another.)
8. Spend some time alone every day.
(on stage?)
9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.
(this is why i switched to the Mach 3. that, and because i left my Sensor in a Comfort Inn bathroom.)
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
(oh. right. damn.)
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.
(shh. i'm still on 10)
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
(new TV show: "lama - eye for the straight guy who's never home")
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.
(lama just earned his robes with that one. he's definitely not Sicilian)
14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
(tryin)
15. Be gentle with the earth.
(tryin)
16. Once a year, go some place you've never been before.
(how about every damn day)
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
(yeah. takes money. and a car. but i'm with you.)
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
(jesus h christ. i'm the most successful person i know)
19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.
(you bad lama, you. mix the two, and boo yah. she'll call back. oh yes she will. she'll have you next to 'fire dept' and 'mom' on the speed dial)

Do not keep this message. The mantra must leave your hands within 96 hours. You will get a very pleasant surprise (this is true even if you are not superstitious) if you send it to:
0-4 people: Your life will improve slightly.
5-9 people: Your life will improve to your liking.
9-14 people: You will have at least 5 surprises in the next 3 weeks.
15 people and above: Your life will improve drastically and everything you ever dreamed of will begin to take shape

:: mike 9:04 AM [+] ::

got into nashville last night, so today is like our day off.

the boys have gone off in the car to see "monster". i'm doing laundry, being mundane. sitting in a coffee shop. it's raining. wilco's on the overhead. "yankee hotel foxtrot". nice instrumentation ideas. sure. if thomas dolby were on right now, i wouldn't complain, though. i've been getting into him for some reason.

touring with a band is great. there's a lot to recommend it. I swear, over there at Mountain Breeze, had I hit that alone, I would have been wandering casket supply stores the following day. but with a band, it's like having a team. a gang. the drums allow people to really feel the pulse of the songs. I put a lot of work into the bass lines on "skimming" and now they can be heard by the people i've wanted to play them for. it's more satisfying. and a lot easier to sing over. it's like i've been sleeping on a cot for 5 years, and i've been upgraded to bed. nice. sweet dreams.

we're half way, today. we're making friends out here. making fans. there is a lot of hardship and exhaustion, and mixed in, there is a deep contentment that goes all the way back to the first time i ever felt free in my life. i was standing on a gas dock, in a warm wet breeze, somewhere in the south, on tour somewhere with some other group. the car was filling up with the cheapest grade gas, the band had gone to pee and stare at obese graybearded truckers and highway trinkets in the gift shop. alone, momentarily, i felt like i could have been anywhere, and that after all the practicing, suffering, miles, and mistakes, Art was beginning to talk back to me with a wild horizonless view of the universe.

the metaphors run wild and horribly shallow, unfortunately: the potential of the highway, the replenishing of energy and mobility expressed in the gas, the strange capsule of the car, etc. all boring thoughts to me, now, but still, thoughts i haven't ever escaped from. you'd think i grew up in a skinner box, in the monkey cage in some poorly-tended, understaffed zoo. like i was fed through bars and never touched in any meaningful way. like i starved myself until i was thin enough to slip out of the cage, and no one to come looking for me.

fine.

:: mike 10:44 AM [+] ::

Exit/In
2208 Elliston Pl
Nashville, TN 37203-

Lou is Keller's Tour Manager/Sound Dude - He'll be hookin it up and will rock sound for you.

Load In is 6:30
park near keller's bus (it's a big bus)
you'll do soundcheck before 8pm doors

things to discuss with lou when you get there:

- who is paying you. not sure if its coming from Keller or venue
- keller doesn't use monitors. need to figure out how to work it out.
:: mike 10:38 AM [+] ::

2/29
day off


Turns out we're going to Nashville after all. I'm going to be opening for Keller Williams. Awesome.
:: mike 8:11 AM [+] ::

2/28 Mt Airy, NC
Mountain Breeze Music w/Jerry Chapman

the sign on the door read

NO FIGHTING
NO WEAPONS
NO DRINKING IN THE PARKING LOT
NO BROWN BAGGING

great.

something about this low, long roadhouse in the middle of Mt Airy reminded me very much of the bar scene in "Blues Brothers", with the chicken wire and the strange stares. Also, I thought of Thunderdome. But for other reasons. Mt. Airy, it turns out, is the birthplace of Andy Griffith, and the inspiration behind the old TV show with the whistling on the theme song. There are lots of stores that talk about Mayberry, and the various characters. We went to a Salvation Army and I picked up an REO Speedwagon tour t shirt from the '84-'85 tour. it's blue, and I can't think of anyone who'd look good in it. but it cost a dollar.

Jerry's great, and knows this kind of 'bar/roadhouse' playing really well. His set was full of fun Kiss and classic rock covers, and he has an infectious smile that makes it all work. A very generous soul.

Unfortunately, we don't have any covers worked up, and though i'm sure it wouldn't take long, i'd rather get new material of mine up, or simply write more material. that said, they were dancing to "be your man" which was cool to watch - i wonder if they were two stepping, though i wouldn't know if they were - but towards the end of the set a couple shouts of, "PLAY SKYNYRD!" came from the back of the bar. man, it's always disappointing when people step into a big stinking pile of their own stereotype.

then we all got hammered.

:: mike 8:11 AM [+] ::

2/27, Charlotte, NC
Neighborhood Theater

one thing i've noticed is that it's hard to write with a band on the road. the bottomless cup of coffee and the wall of silence and fluorescent light has been replaced by human conversation. Many would call that a fair trade, but the price is the writing.

17 inches of snow have fallen, and no one here owns a shovel. for real. no one owns shovels here and the city has no plows. the snow has sat on highways and sidewalks over night, and has pooled and frozen, and it's kind of treacherous out here. cars are stacked up all over the interstate. but for us northerners, this is a school day.

Peter Jennings has been talking about Charlotte's accumulations on World News Tonight. Bad sign for the show.

but it sounded great again, and a couple of diehards with four wheel drive came down and danced in the aisles. Thanks especially to Derel and Ellen for making the trip from Ashville to see the show.

We'll be back.
:: mike 8:03 AM [+] ::

new one. not sure of the title yet. played a couple times, so far. sounds nice.

ever since- mike errico

I dreamt you
I drew you
Long before I thought that I might never find you
I chased you
I traced you
And held your picture up into the light

All the weight of nights and days too long to list
All the parties I've been to, you were missed
I've waited ever since
I've waited ever since

I met you
Tried to forget you
Even though I felt somehow someone had sent you here
To me
And as if you knew me
We picked up where we left off in another life

At times I tried to settle out for so much less than this
Saved only by the hope in every eyelash wish
I've waited ever since
I've waited ever since

(solo)

All the weight of nights and days too long to list
All the parties I've been to, you were missed
I've waited ever since
I've waited ever since
I've waited ever since
I met you.

:: mike 7:51 AM [+] ::

I found out the EYELEVEL CD, elevator plans, is out. I played lap steel on about half the record, and took the photography for the packaging. I'm psyched with how it turned out.

Also, found out that the photos I took for the cover of the new Jonathan Ellinghaus record Leaving it all Behind have been approved and are now going to the graphic designer in Austin, TX. I played acoustic, lap steel and resonator guitar on a lot of it, and it's probably some of my best playing, if you ask me.

The photography also came out great. He's got a big bald beautiful head, and I took all sorts of crazy lunar landscape shots of it. I love that head. I can't wait to see what they do with the shots.

You can see these shots/buy the discs at Engine Company Records.

Cool. Now it's off to Charlotte, NC. What is next?


:: mike 9:12 AM [+] ::

2/26 winston salem, nc
ziggy's w/jerry chapman

snow is terrifying to these people. there are about 4 inches of it on the ground. scary white stuff. cold. disappears on lips and cheeks. cannot operate vehicle in it. must stay home.

a few brave souls showed, and for our efforts, the club called the gig off minutes before we went on. I somehow managed to guilt them into giving us a 25 min set after grabbing the mic and inviting everyone back to my hotel room for a solo acoustic set with a couple of six packs bought from the bar.

it was 25 degrees in the place, and we played with sweaters and hats on. we could see our breath. i grabbed the kerosene space heater from the bar area, brought it down to the stage area, and the brave souls huddled around it for warmth until we played.

but you know? we played great. they danced, and knew the words and had a good time.

I will not be daunted. you cannot stop the rock.

:: mike 9:29 PM [+] ::

Good news: Monday Morning goes to radio on March 1st. It will be the second single from Skimming. We're all very excited to see what will happen. A question came from upstairs:

Mike,

The label and the radio promoters like Monday Morning, think it’s a very good song for radio, and want to take it. Congratulations.

By the way, you are going to be asked about the "Lee Harvey Oswald on the ceiling" line. Jarring, to many people, which is not necessarily bad in a commercial context. Question is, why? Know I asked u this before, but can u give me some explanation of your thought process again?

Answer:

great news about radio promotion, and the next single. if you're psyched, i'm psyched. let me try and clarify "monday morning" if they feel it important to get on the radio.

but

i have to fly my 'artist' flag for a second and say that explanations kill a lot of the magic of a lyric. i realize we're interfacing art with commerce here, so i'll fold up my artist flag and put it back in the cedar closet. think of me inhabiting roger ebert's body for a moment, if that makes this any more fun...

there are many explanations. here are two:

1) lee harvey o. is in the song as a tribute to my friend Hal, who knows every single thing about the JFK assassination. we're close friends, we both cheer each other up when a date goes wrong...it's an inside joke. he also wrote a one man show called "acting alone" that i don't think he ever finished. lee harvey oswald is my friend hal.

2) lee harvey oswald is "the patron saint of those who act alone," a harbinger, a warning to lonely men who are afraid of telling the women they love that they actually love them. He's a lot like the Ghost of Christmas Future in "A Christmas Carol." when oswald warns the main character to "trust (his) feelings," it is pretty obvious to the listener what those feelings are...for those who don't know, the entire last minute should explain:

"i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you"

exhausted with acting alone, and reaching out, as scary as that is ("i've been here once when it wasn't right/i'd hate to blow it that bad twice"), the character pushes himself into that vulnerable world of romantic love. ironically, he does so by following oswald's advice, albeit to a completely different end.

the good news: the word "ass" is never mentioned.

hope that helps.

m

:: mike 7:10 AM [+] ::

Feb. 25 – Blacksburg, VA
Attitudes

Strange breakfast. An old lady looked at us and repeated, “A guy in here had size 16 ½ feet. Craziest thing. 16 ½ feet. This was about 3 weeks ago. You want more coffee?”

We bought a soft shell roof rack for the top of the car. Now there’s some room in here. Now we look like…well, what we are. A band.

I wasn’t expecting much from Attitudes. I was expecting attitude. I had a bad attitude. We pulled up to Attitudes, and it was connected to a restaurant called Latitudes. I drew conclusions. But I was wrong.

Drew, the promoter, is a senior at Virginia Tech, and one of those totally inspired, and inspiring guys that bands love to get out of the van and meet. He gets the Matt Wisotsky Award for Blacksburg, VA (SANAP). He had our hotel, food, sound, and load in totally wired, and made it easy for us to do our jobs. Thank you Drew.

Several fun bands were on the bill, and students who came down had a great time, even though I think I inhaled a small ball of dog hair that flew out of the harmonica at the beginning of “Springtime”. Jeff, the soundman, did as good a job as possible, muttering slightly under his breath about the DJs who come in and compromise the club’s sound system. What a team: a promoter who cares and soundman who cares. That’s rare. I wish you guys the best, and I hope to be back soon. We definitely made some new fans

:: mike 7:04 AM [+] ::

Tuesday, Feb 24 – Vienna, VA
Jammin Java

I’ve tried to play here about three times, and every time, something horrible has happened… the storm of the century, hurricane Isabelle, and the power grid explosion that darkened the east coast all occurred on days scheduled for mike errico at jammin java. I woke up to a light snowfall, and thought, ‘here we go again.’

Undaunted, I picked up Turner at his studio and then drove way uptown to pick up Toby. We quickly realized that the truck is too small for the gear. Luckily Toby had some straps, and we tied stuff down on the roof. It looks like the damn Beverly Hillbillies.

Jammin Java is a cool spot. I can’t believe we made it, this time. We sound good, and will tighten further as the tour progresses. As a band, we rolled out “underwater” for the encore, and solo, I played a new one, kind of untitled, though something like “Ever Since” or something might be the title.

After the show, I was backstage walking around with a beer in my hand, and leaned over to pick up my cell, forgetting the beer was open; I dumped half the bottle into my open bag of fresh clean tour clothes. Tour has begun.

:: mike 6:50 AM [+] ::

time in.

I’d like to dedicate the first part of this diary to the guy in DC who asked me to start it up again. He sells what he calls “Intimacy packs” to hotel chains. Intimacy packs are little boxes that high-end hotels leave in bathrooms. They contain condoms, lubrication, and of course, shampoos and conditioners. Thank you, Mr. Intimacy Pack-man.
:: mike 6:39 AM [+] ::