soldiers come quickly, i feel the earth beneath my feet
Greetings from a rare night-writing episode in Portland, Oregon,
I’m in town to see Rilo Kiley even though I myself am playing 4 shows with them in a few months. I assume this is shocking to no one. My sister Allison saw them twice already in Southern California and she wanted to go for the hat trick. It took absolutely no convincing to get me to join her despite my withered, road-worn state. I put all my stuff in a rental car at PDX only to look over and see a blue Jetta sitting one row over. I drove a blue Jetta in high school, listened to every Rilo Kiley album countless times in it and in fact drove that very car to see them 20 years ago (almost to the damn day!) - so naturally I took my suitcase out of the original car, rolled it over to the Jetta, threw it in the trunk and blasted More Adventurous as I drove to my hotel.
The show itself was glorious. I’d compare how I felt walking around there before it all got started to how I felt at the Eras Tour. Everyone’s like minded in their good mood and anticipatory buzz. We’ve all waited a decade and a half. We all have the songs and the lyrics sort of etched on the walls of our brains and attached to core memories. When the band came out and started playing “The Execution Of All Things” it was a little impossible not to shed a tear as you sang along. Allison and I ran into our dear friend D’arcy Carden and her two lovely sisters Miranda and Laney. Our group was flanked by women in their 30s and 40s all having basically the same cathartic experience we all were. It was wonderful. I needed it. I’m so glad I went and I can’t wait to see it again and give emotional speeches on stage about why they’re my favorite in the fall.
The first bit of tour this year is over. It was amazing and exhausting. I’m the slightest bit sick which always happens when I really overextend myself, but it is only in that overextension that I feel satisfied or satiated like I’ve actually done my best, hardest work. Slightly insane. I feel incredibly grateful to have gotten to watch Wilco up close for weeks. I’ve always looked up to them so much. To try to do what they do would be impossible and that’s only been further proven to me by watching them play every night. There’s such a marriage of dexterity and artistry, great songs executed on the finest line of precise and messy, where so much character is woven in so effortlessly. It’s been insanely inspiring to get to watch and listen with a front row seat. I always feel so torn between the idiosyncratic and the straight-shooting when I’m making music. It’s amazing to have such a great example that you can do both at the same time and it can stay cool for decades. I also just loved getting to see how they operate, which I always enjoy when we support anyone I guess. It gave me so much to chew on, think about, improve upon, wonder about. I walk away from it physically drained but creatively energized.
I’ve been finding a lot of solace at the mall lately. I went several times on this tour. Eliana and I had an old-fashioned 90s mall day in Dallas where we talked about life as we strolled between stores and tried on marked-down oxfords at J.Crew. My friend Chris Black took me to Lenox Mall in Atlanta on a busy Saturday and something about the ambient drone of talking and the robust and compelling people-watching and the cool air conditioning and the smells of “mall perfume” as my sister lovingly calls most mainstream fragrances, it was just what I needed to knock out some cobwebs. I remember in Mad Men Peggy and Don go to the movies to cleanse their creative palates. Maybe I go to the mall.
Like most editions of this blog I started it weeks ago and too many things happened so I had to keep editing things out, including an opening line I loved which was “Greetings from a dreary Drury Inn in San Antonio…” Sometimes its easy for me to write these little transmissions from the road. Sometimes I actually take a lot of comfort in it. Other times I find it really difficult for whatever reason. I guess thats just writing in general for me. It won’t even occur to me to pick up a guitar and write a song for months on end and then suddenly I’ll write a whole big batch in a couple weeks. When it rains it pours, when it doesn’t I forget that rain even exists.
I heard something brilliant in a 12 step meeting 2 years ago and I wrote it down and carried the paper around for a while and for whatever reason sitting here I can’t remember what it said or where it is and I’ll be damned if I don’t wonder forever. Whatever it was, it helped me so much in a really bad moment. Something about centering yourself, your problems, your bad thoughts, obsessing over them, letting them grow into these undeniable behemoth structures that block you from functioning. Just don’t. You’re not that important. Humbling! True! I’ll update you if I ever find the paper. I can’t believe I can’t remember but something about just remembering it ever existed sparked some sense of joy and comfort in me.
What’s forthcoming, let’s see. I’m going to Europe in a couple of weeks and making my triumphant return to Primavera Festival. It was there, 7 years ago where I took my last sip of alcohol and then wrote the song “Oxbow” about the experience. I call playing a song in the city it was written about (or in) “taking it home.’ I’m excited to take that one home. We’re doing Primavera Porto, Best Kept Secret and also playing a handful of shows in the UK. Very exciting, quick little trip. We truly have so much coming up. I won’t walk you through it. Go check out the dates. We’re basically playing all over North America this year.
That’s all I have for you now. More soon.
-KC
