Touring is for tourists

So, we’re back from a mini-tour to see if anyone else thinks we’re awesome. (Some did.) Four Melbourne shows, two Tasmanian shows and two Radelaidian shows.

Not to mention:
Three drumkits
Four drummers
Six guitar amps
Seven free-to-cheap accommodation arrangements
And a partridge etc etc

We had full houses, empty-as-a-church houses, gigs that left us awed and gigs that were a bucket of terribility, but there were always positives. (For example, The Revolver Upstairs [below] wasn’t nearly as expensive to play at as it could have been.)

Certainly the weirdest was Ruby’s Lounge in Belgrave, Victoria. With a four band bill, three from interstate and one international group, I’ve never seen an emptier room. The first band played to the second band, the second band played to the first band, the third band promised to make ears bleed and cleared the place. Then it was our turn to play. Ben and I took our acoustic guitars out to the footpath and played to actual people, told them we’d play three songs on the stage inside and found ourselves all Pied Piper like as they followed us in. People got happy, danced and loved it. Easy.

Our most rewarding show was Cygnet Folk Festival. We’d applied five years in a row and finally got in. Strangely enough, we did our thing and people did their happy and dancing thing. It’s pretty easy, really. Love to all the Cygnet folkies. It was very special to be there.

We’ll be putting on a Tasmanian launch real soon, then heading back to Victoria for a spell.

It’s funny being Tasmanian. Apart from being related to half our audience (and to each other), a lot of people just tend to swim around this heart-shaped state like sharks born into a fish tank.

Or sparrows in a kitchen, for that matter.

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