May 7th, 2010 | by Typhoon Music | Posted In: Columns, Tour Diary, Tour Diary

Typhoon: You Can't Always Be Happy (Santa Barbara? Tucson?)

     
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100_2813You can't always be happy,
but sometimes you can be really happy


"I deleted the internet; just try googling google."
-Robin Allender

After a day in Santa Barbara we drove south, dropping off Devin at LAX (so he could get to the High Scores & Records / Guidance Counselor record release—hope you were all there!) and then picking up Paul in Indio. We bought some cheap pool floaties and went east to find camping on our way to Arizona. On a side note, trying to find a campground by following the little blue teepee signs on the side of the highway is NOT an effective way to go camping; we ended up in a crappy parking lot with a sign reading "closed 'til fall" before we found a motel across the AZ border at 4 am. We hid the van and Tyler and I went to the lobby pretending to be two lonely travelers needing a room with two beds. You'd be amazed at the small places we fit into—the happiest l'il traveling refugee camp you've ever seen.

Pieter, Tyler, Nora and I stayed up outside our motel for a bit until it started raining. If you haven't experienced a desert rain before, I highly recommend it; smells wonderful.

We spent the next day traveling to Tucson, stopping only to visit "The Thing" roadside attraction somewhere in the Arizona desert (we kinda had to; every mile preceding the attraction was a billboard saying something like "What is the Thing?," "Have you seen the Thing?" and "Clean Restrooms!"

Tucson is hot as hell.

That night we played at the Rialto Theater. I think there will be some video footage of this one floating around at some point—there was a very nice man with a camera there. I can only speak for myself, but I imagine everyone was as tired as I was. Still, it was a good show. My uncle (the one from SF) happened to be in Arizona on business so he came to Tucson and very generously got us an extra room at the Hotel Congress. One of the best parts about going on tour is knowing that people have got your back, both loved ones and strangers. We really couldn't have done this without a lot of charity coming from all sides.

After Yann's set, we all went over to the Congress for where everyone was staying for the night. I hit the hay pretty early, but I did catch Jen instigating what apparently turned into a raging dance party. As I was heading back to my room, I heard Jen use Dave's "take your balls out of your purse" line on Tyler.

The next morning, Paul and I had breakfast with Yann and Stephane in the lobby restaurant. I had some tasty granola. How exciting!

Later a gang of us found a health food store and bought some goodies. Pieter found some new shades at a nearby thrift store to replace the ones he had lost to the vast ocean in Santa Clara. We spent the rest of the morning loitering in the hotel lobby until we were ready to make a break for Texas.

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I'm going to take a couple moments here to say some things about this band. First off, it's my very favorite band as it has so many of my very favorite people in it. And not only do I get to play music with these people, but in the long spaces between shows we get to travel around in a mobile fort having adventures.


Falling Asleep in the Mouth of a Shanimal, Waking up in the Belly of a Beast

"what do you think about my naked body?
does it make you hot? does it make you want to party?"

-kickball

"why, yes. yes it does"
-kyle "are" morton

One time I was looking up on the internet whether my last name had any famous connotations other than the salt company, and I came across the concept of "morton's fork," a philosophical dilemma in which a given party is paralyzed between two equally bad choices. Since then, I've encountered various of these so-called forks but never one as momentous as this one: If you visit our myspace you'll find that Typhoon is slated to play in Dallas, TX the evening of April 22nd, 2010 and then again in Salem, OR the evening of April 24th.

For those of you who, like myself, have trouble conceptualizing distance of this magnitude, here's some elucidating tidbits: the trip is 2,150 miles and spans 8 different states (and these are some big states, folks); and even traveling at optimum speeds, it takes 35+ hours (and with our van i assure you we won't be traveling at optimum speeds). In summation, trying to get to Salem from Dallas in less than 40 hours is improbable, implausible and by most accounts impossible. On the other hand, how do you tell Yann Tiersen you can't play the last show on his tour? How we came to be scheduled for both these shows is a long story that shan't be recounted here, but suffice it to say we're damned if we do and damned if we don't. After pooling our collective minds, we decided the best thing to do is try to duck out of our Dallas date, which we tried to do initially, but no dice on account of Yann was supposed to use our equipment (situation changed, they rented). Anyway, we're in the process of negotiating with people who are, frankly, way out of our league—but thanks to our new manager, the lovely Ingrid Rennan, it looks like we're going to make it home to play Wulapalooza with time to spare! We'll know for sure soon enough.

In other news, we can confirm that it's true: Texas is a very big state. It takes up two pages in our atlas. We've been driving for hours immemorial and we still can't seem to get to the next page.

After Tucson, we drove all day and stayed a night (if you can call 4am to 10am a night) in Fort Stockton, last outpost of "civilization" for hundreds of miles in west TX. Again, we rented a motel room for two people and snuck the rest in two by two, in the style of the dwarves at Bilbo's house in the Hobbit. We left the next morning, bleary eyed but determined.

We stopped in the small hill country town of Harper and got some rib-sticking Texan eats. We didn't realize the restaurant was closing and apparently they stayed open for us on the misinformation that we were traveling ranch-hands going to work on a lutheran property nearby—a very insignificant case of divine intervention, we believe. Good news is, the restaurant folks were still nice to us even when they realized that we were, in fact, godless yankee dirty hippies from OR-EE-GONE. And they cooked us up a mean gravy.

What began in arizona as a little congestion has since turned into a full-blown cold. When we got to Austin, I wandered around looking for a drug store to buy some drugs but i ended up getting disoriented and spending what little time we had left before soundcheck trying to find familiar landmarks.

I talked with Yann and the tour manager, Matthew, who both agreed that it was best if we skipped Dallas so as not to kill ourselves on the drive home. Austin was now our last show together, and it was fucking amazing. Yann invited us up on stage to do a massive sing-a-long on one of their songs. We got to see our old friends Nick and Becky who moved to Austin from Salem a few years back. After the show, we had a ton of fun taking pictures, getting autographs for loved ones back home and getting a little inebriated. We met Munaf Rayani from Explosions in the Sky, who was hanging out in the green room—super nice guy.

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The sentiment of the night seemed to be "holy shit, how did we get here?"
 
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