Saturday, Sept 26, 2009
Private engagement, Santa Barbara, CA

Weddings always are a mix of well-organized matters rubbing shoulders with the purely chaotic. Tonight was no exception. I'd been asked by the bride and groom - old friends of mine - to play music at the nuptials, and I chose to write original music for the whole thing, as I've done twice before. Everything seemed to be in good shape, with the wedding planner getting in touch by phone beforehand, and the rehearsal going smoothly, despite the absence of the officiant (no one thought to invite him...hmm.).

On the day of the event, however, things seemed to happen of their own accord, plans be darned. At 4:30, half an hour before the wedding was to start, the best men weren't dressed, the planner was flitting around with no apparent purpose, and neither guests nor bridal party had arrived. I dutifully started my music, playing to empty seats, and earlybirds started to drift in. By 5:00, the scheduled time for the ceremony to start, I was ready to start my last tune, but couldn't find the planner anywhere - he'd promised to be waiting in eyeshot - to give him my prearranged signal to get ready to send the party down the aisle. I had to put down the guitar and personally seek him out in the reception hall, where he told me that I needed kill more time as the bride still had not arrived. I was prepared for this eventuality, and reprised an earlier tune. At the end of that, once again he was nowhere in sight to receive a cue, so I filled in with my final tune, then added one more. Halfway through this last one, the officiant was sent forth, signaling the beginning of the ceremony, followed at a lazy distance by the groom (looking a bit like a lost lamb). I'd finished my song, but kept repeating, waiting for the other groomsmen to show themselves. There was no sign of them for a good two additional minutes, so I switched to the tune I'd written for the bridal entrance. At last the best men came down the aisle, and arranged themselves directly in front of me, blocking my view so I truly had no idea what was going on. I kept repeating the bridal entrance music, hoping the bride would soon appear before I embarrassed myself with a fifth repetition of the same verse, and after a protracted wait she finally appeared, a vision in satin white. She reached the altar in the middle of a chorus, so I improvised an ending and hoped that nobody minded a rather curt cadence.

The vows went off as planned, and I played the triumphant finale as I'd planned after the climactic kiss. My final piece was a rather involved number, "technical" as the groom put it, enjoying the chance to have some fun now that the dignified stuff was over with. Halfway through, though, somebody roamed up with an iPod and started switching cables behind me, then distractingly hovered over my shoulder. I finished up and he asked if he could plug in the device for the cocktail hour, though I'd planned to reprise one of the pieces I'd started with. I told him I'd handle it, and repeated a tune that the groom had especially liked, digging into it a bit more than before, knowing that people were now plowing into their cocktails and that my friends were well wed. A good time in the end (and an excellent dinner later, too, plus an open bar stocked with very nice liquor).

Sunday, Sept 27, 2009
Plush, Tucson, AZ

This is my third time playing in Tucson over the past year and a half, and certain things are becoming familiar. The saguaro, the strips of activity among the miles and miles of space and housing developments within city limits, and of course the naked, beating sun. Even at the end of September, an 8 a.m. walk is always cut short by the merciless glare. I really need to invest in a cowboy hat to wear in these Southwestern states.

I had a long long drive from Santa Barbara yesterday, about nine hours, but I managed to build in enough time that I could pause at a rest stop to practice for a while. Arizona is pretty mindful of the need for shade, so I can always find a relatively cool spot to play along the road. Playing outdoors is one of my favorite things, so I'm always glad to have the opportunity, even tucked into an endless day behind the wheel.

Plush is a good rock club on the happening 4th Ave strip. I was happy to get a booking there, and had been looking forward to this date as one of the choicer venues on this tour. I arrived to find helpful staffpeople and a good soundsystem, even in the lounge which was my home for the night. I plugged in and had a glance at the list of tunes I'd organized during the drive. This particular night they'd asked that I only play original material, and to fill two hours I had to dig pretty deep in my catalog, but I was also able to draw on the brand-new stuff I'd written for the wedding I played at yesterday so I had a good 35 tunes to pick from.

My friends here had done a good job of rounding up folks, so I had a good crowd from the start. Things were looking great. I launched into the set, bouncing between rocking stuff and some mellower things from the wedding, and felt like I was playing well. Halfway through, though, even as people were generally paying attention, I started to have the distinct feeling that I wasn't entirely entertaining to their taste. I know that instrumental music has the burden of being most often used as background wallpaper, but I try to provide enough melody (if not outright rockin') to sustain interest.

When even the tunes that generally provoke a good reaction seemed to be falling flat, I pulled out some tougher, more technical pieces, hoping to shake things up. But it still felt like I wasn't really making a connection, and when I finished the first set I kinda slunk outside to walk around a bit and kickstart my spirit which was starting to flag. Other than playing to nobody in a bad venue, the worst kind of show is playing to a crowd in a good venue and feeling like one's shtick just isn't good enough, which was seeming to be the case tonight. I know some people make an effort to entertain through banter, and can get through that way, but it never feels very genuine to me and I'd ultimately rather just play, and hopefully have the playing be enough. When I go out to see a show, I'd rather not hear patter, so I'm sticking by my guns even if I'm not much of an Entertainer.

I'd saved my favorite pieces for the second set, and managed to gain the confidence to come back with a smile and start up again. A number of people had now left, which was perhaps understandable for a late Sunday night, but a new couple had arrived and taken a place directly in front, clearly interested in hearing music. I focused on them, and started to feel a bit better about myself as they stayed in their spot, applauding (if a bit gingerly, being some of the few who were showing interest) after each tune.

I did one thing I hadn't done before, which was to improvise a tune in a songish arrangement. When I play cover tunes, I always leave room for improvisation, either in an actual guitar solo or with flexibility in the arrangement, but my original acoustic numbers are pretty structured and tonight I was missing the excitement of trying some new off-the-cuff things. I picked a standard chord progression in the key of C, to make things especially easy on myself, and created a wispy sort of chord solo, which was a lot of fun and seemed to go over pretty well. I need to work more of this into my acoustic sets.

By the end of the night, my main listeners were still the lone couple in front, but they and a few others (to my great surprise) bought discs and that was enough to feel like I'd salvaged things.

Tuesday, Sept 29, 2009
Winning Coffee Co, Albuquerque, NM

"You must really love to play the guitar". Said to me last night by a friend while I was providing some entertainment after a huge dinner of grilled fish, gazpacho, hibiscus and much wine. Funny remark; not exactly a compliment. Maybe just some sort of observation, if not excuse, regarding my apparent obsession?

The drive today from Tucson to Albuquerque was long, hot, and filled with the sort of roadside America that quickly loses its kitschy humor after enough times blowing by the same repeating billboards, ridiculous statuary and specious attractions ("The Thing" doesn't especially pique my interest). I do enjoy the landscape of the Southwest, but my route didn't take me past many scenic mesas, so distraction was mainly provided by all the anti-tax, anti-"socialist", hands-off-my-paycheck bumper stickers and town names like, heh heh, Elephant Butte.

My body is still on East Coast time, at least in the mornings, so I woke up too early and then was flagging by 3 p.m. so I pulled over for a welcome power nap in the car, as it seemed I was making good time. I woke to my alarm and got going again, then realized in glancing at my phone that I'd forgotten about the time change in NM. (This always happens - I really need to carry a time zone map...). It was now going to be tight to get to the venue in time, so I made good use of the 75 mph speed limit and shot directly to the cafe.

I realized while loading in that I'd played at a venue on this very same strip by the university while on tour with my old band Maxwell Horse. It was a nice jolt of recognition, and fun to be seeing it on tour again, albeit by myself this time.

The cafe nicely treated me to food, and as I tucked into a classic overstuffed burrito I worked at padding my list of tunes, as I needed to fill three hours by myself, with original material. I'd done this once on the summer tour, in Olympia, and managed to make it work by sneaking in some very obscure covers and repeating some tunes at the end of the last set. With the new material from the weddings, this time it looked like I could fill the whole evening, though dependent on some very long breaks.

I plugged in my little PA, scoped out the crowd (mainly students with laptops) and was just about to start my first number when I heard a woman having a bit of a polite argument with the barista. From what I could make out, it seemed that she'd been told yesterday that she could play this evening, though I'd been booked for several weeks. It struck me that I wouldn't mind trimming down my marathon set to half, so I went over and offered to split the evening with her. She was glad to accept, and I felt some relief at not having to fill that much time on my own.

The crowd this evening was a bit more polarized than last night's, which was marked mainly by polite interest. Here, half the folks were glued to their computers and never once bothered to glance up, but the ones who were paying attention were really listening. It was nice that the women planning to play after me were in the listening camp, always a nice feeling to have musicians present. There was a kid of three or four years, too, who seemed to be enjoying himself with some clumsy dancing, running around, and even taking part in the applause after each number. Not a bad set.

Just after I finished, a gentleman came in off the street and invited me as well as Elana Brody, the next performer, to cut out and take part in an open mic happening just down the street. We conferred a bit, and decided it was a good idea as we could get double exposure in one evening, and I promised to come down and put down all of our names while Elana set up. Turned out to be a big, noisy pizza place/bar, not too promising, but I put our names down in the second and third slots and came back to the cafe for the few minutes until my turn was up.

Elana had started, sitting down at her keyboard, and was immediately mesmerizing. A strong presence onstage, a skilled pianist, and especially an amazing vocalist. I found myself immediately jealous of the way that people were drawn in by her voice. I definitely have vocalist envy (being a bit of a failed one), and here I was seeing again the way that people can relate to singing so easily.

I was really enjoying her performance, and was loath to leave for my open-mic slot. But since my name was on the list, I didn't want to skip out, so I grabbed my guitar and ducked around the corner to the pizza place. It was definitely time for my slot, but I wasn't quite sure what was going on. There was a full band onstage, conferring amongst themselves, half-starting a blues jam, then abandoning it in favor of asking one of their kids to come up and sing. The atmosphere was rather raucous and the crowd did not seem like listeners, so I wasn't very motivated to approach the stage to request my opportunity at the mic. After ten minutes or so, I decided to follow my better instincts, grabbed my guitar and ran back down to the cafe, figuring that if they really wanted me, the dude who'd come down to ask up to sign up would follow.

When I returned, Elana was packing up, but I told her that the cafe was a much better environment, so she replugged everything in and finished her set. I was struck not only by her voice, but her ease at letting herself go emotionally while still maintaining a rapport with the crowd. I can get pretty involved with the emotions that are part of music when I'm performing, but I try to keep a stone face because I've seen it alienate people if things come across too raw or self-involved. But she was managing to pull it off, stomping on the floor, tossing her head around, and sometimes appearing close to tears, but able to joke with the audience when the tune was over.

It was a great performance, and as much as it made me wish I could not only sing but connect so directly with the listeners, I'm trying to rechannel those feelings (that frankly made me feel a bit outclassed, at least on this particular night). I still think it's possible to get through to people with instrumental music, even if it's not so immediately accessible to the average bear.

Wednesday, Sept 30, 2009
Cochineal, Marfa, TX

On my summer tour, after being unable to find a gig in El Paso I was advised to spend the night in Marfa instead. I ended up finding an incredible restaurant named Cochineal, whose food so moved me that I played guitar for the staff, and was then invited to spend the night in the owners' guesthouse. This time, I didn't even bother looking in El Paso, and planned on coming to Marfa to eat at the same restaurant and play again.

Marfa is in deep southwestern Texas, i.e. the middle of nowhere. I loved the drive after turning off I-10, the sky was full of dramatic clouds and there were almost no other cars on the road. I also got to pay a visit to one of my favorite public artworks, the Marfa Prada, which is simply a non-operational Prada storefront out in the desolate desert. No shop, just the windows with some goods in them. Further along on the road, this time I also noticed a bizarre sort of dirigible tethered to a post, apparently Air Force property. It seemed a proper introduction to the oddness that is Marfa.

I drove straight to Cochineal and had a nice conversation with the owners while enjoying another amazing meal. Roasted peppers w/fresh anchovy, then sea bass cooked and served inside a parchment wrapper, followed by a warm date cake. Insanely good. It's worth coming to Marfa just for this place, honestly.

Afterwards I pulled out my guitar and played for a while on their patio, mainly for the benefit of the owners and their friends, as most diners were inside. The sky was growing darker and darker, and though I loved the atmosphere outdoors, when raindrops began in earnest I had to leave my spot. One of the servers told me the cookstaff had requested that I come play for them, so I sat in front of the kitchen (which has three tables in view of the preparation) and played my rockingest tunes for the three youngish fellows who were turning out this amazing food. One of them later told me that he'd seen me in New York in July, getting on a train, which would have been just three weeks after I'd met him in Marfa and completely possible.

After serenading the dudes for awhile, I went to play for the diners. The owners sent over some good wine, and I played and played until every last person had gone home, my fingers were aching and I quite literally had gone through all the tunes I know. Once again they set me up in their guesthouse and offered the invitation to come back anytime I wanted. As off the beaten path as this is (and pretty unconventional for a "tour date"), I'll be including this anytime I hit Texas.

Thursday, October 1, 2009
Cherrywood Coffeehouse, Austin, TX

Austin is a tough town to book. Live music is such a part of the currency of everyday life here that local bands will play all the time in town, disregarding the conventional wisdom that dictates at least two weeks between performance in any one area, to maximize draw. So venues are hardly begging for talent to come fill their stages.

I was hoping to use some friends' connections to land me something, but when that didn't pan out - and the few booking requests I'd sent on my own were ignored - I planned to just have a day off to catch music made by someone else. But then I saw a new venue on a friend's show calendar and decided to drop a note, and they bit, albeit just a few weeks ago. I scrambled to find a local player to play with me, hoping to bring a few people out, and luckily managed to find somebody willing as well. There was no time to promote the show, but at least it was a gig (which has become a bit of a mantra on this rather belatedly-planned tour).

After a long drive across Texas, I showed up early at Cherrywood and had a surprisingly good salad (which I had to pay for, bummer), then asked where to set things up, expecting to have to ask one of the coffeesippers to vacate their table, as is typical. Instead, I was directed to a big outdoor space with a good sized stage; whoa. Not the kind of thing I've ever seen at a place called a coffeehouse before. They also showed me to the PA, which came with a cart for humping the gear..! This town does have some kind of sympathy for musicians!

I set up the gear - complete with a goofy colored all-in-one lightshow - and met my co-performer, Fabi Reyna. The pickup in her main guitar didn't work, and the other had no pickup whatsoever, so we had to mic both of them (a terrible thing - my god, please, if you're going to play out with an acoustic, install a pickup, ok?), causing great feedbacky havoc as I struggled to amp her up properly. Finally I got things set, then pushed her chair and mic off to the side for my set.

It was a fairly desultory opening, as only a few pals were in attendance, and it felt fairly ridiculous to be playing such a big space full of nobody. Plus, the Austin humidity was making strings and fingers very sticky. I stuck to my most rocking stuff and bullied my way through, choosing muscle instead of subtlety as it was a effort just to slide around between frets, let alone pull off any kind of delicate fingerpicking. Gradually more people showed up to listen, and by the end I was enjoying the big stage and managed to do a few quieter tunes as well.

Fabi was up next, and though she gave the definite impression of not having played out very much, her unique Cat Power-ish voice was a real charmer and I enjoyed every bit of her abbreviated six-song set. Afterward, I headed off to catch a friend's show at The Parlor, a little pizza place/rock venue. It's this kind of thing that just doesn't seem to exist in other cities, a very modest little joint that just happens to regularly book very loud music, in a small strip lined with other places doing the same thing. I had a double chocolate stout, a quarter of a cheese pie and a great time rocking out to the cathartic Minutemen-meets-Shellac offerings of three dudes blasting it out on a Thursday night.

Saturday, October 3, 2009
Lincoln Perk, Hesston, KS

All things considered, tonight was probably the best show of the tour so far. Modest as it was, it was a good listening environment, with people populating it and paying attention, and that's really what I always hope for.

The funny thing is that it almost didn't happen at all. I'd booked a date for tonight at a coffeeshop I'd played at over the summer, a cavernous space that was a bit of a drag to play due to the distinct echo of one's playing bouncing quite distinctly off the back walls. But barely two weeks ago, my brother-in-law informed me that there was a sign on the door saying they were closed. Oddly, the same thing happened last year in that space, where I'd booked the gig, and the place then closed a few weeks before I was to play, but it reopened just in time for me to make arrangements with the new owners to keep the date. This time, the space was closed for good, but just a few days ago I finally found another coffeeshop willing to host me.

The space itself was quite small, but I prefer this extreme to the other I had to fill on my last visit. I squeezed myself into a corner, set up my little PA and went over the setlist I'd decided to write out. I haven't done that for a long time - all summer I just winged it, as with the shows so far this tour - but I came to realize that I was beginning to worry about what the next song should be while I was still in the act of playing. That's no good, as I want to remain focused, so I thought I'd try a list out again, especially as I now have enough original material that I sometimes was forgetting to include some tunes that I'd really wanted to hit.

As it turns out, I started deviating from the list pretty quickly, adjusting to what the audience seemed to be ready for. The place filled up pretty quickly, with friends and relatives that my family there had invited, and with playing practically on top of them all I was pretty aware of the reactions. I'd planned more of a rocking set, but sensed that people soon needed a break from that so I started mixing in more light material. I also worked in some covers that seemed appropriate to the people gathered. As it was a generally older crowd, pretty early on I threw in a cover of Tom Waits' "Ol' 55" (a hit for the Eagles, so I figured there would be some recognition), which seemed to go over well. A bit later I tried out Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", which was really satisfying to play. It has such a simple, strong melody, and but three chords, so it felt like a bit of a relief to bring it out in contrast to my own stuff which is generally a bit more involved. That got a nice reaction too. One woman remarked that the tune was much older than I was, and asked how I came to know it. I didn't know quite what to say - doesn't everyone know that song? - but I said something about the timelessness of Hank. I'm not what you would call a honky-tonk fan, but his power can't be denied, yodel and all.

With people listening, and showing their appreciation, I felt able to throw in some curveballs that I might not have otherwise. There are certain tunes I play that are a bit more emotionally intense and/or complicated, so I tend to save them for very specific kinds of environments, having seen them fall flat sometimes. But tonight I felt able to do whatever I wanted, and these pieces seemed to go over as well as anything else, which felt great.

I was sad to come to the end of my set, as I was having so much fun playing. And people said some very kind things afterward. It felt like a bit of a victory, after feeling the instrumental nature of my music to be a liability the last few nights. Nice to have a date like this every once in a while.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Mercury Cafe, Denver, CO

I had an off night last night, and enjoyed it very much with some old friends. They live south of Denver proper, in fact about 50 miles south, and a couple of thousand feet higher as well. It was shockingly cold when I arrived, and in fact dropped below freezing overnight. It made for some chilly runs back and forth to the car, but once inside, I was able to enjoy the incredible views, shrouded in fog.

Today, then, was cold again, but clear. The enjoyment of those views doubled, now being able to see Pike's Peak in the distance. It was still enjoyable even while driving up the tech corridor to center city Denver, dodging traffic amid the massive sprawl. We arrived early enough to be able to walk around downtown and the 16th St. pedestrian mall, which I hadn't seen before, having encountered the city only on hitchhiking trips where I stuck close to the interstate. Downtown struck me as having a mellower pace than I'd anticipated, even at rush hour on a weekday.

The Mercury Cafe is a funny place. It's a vine-covered building in the middle of an industrial stretch, and the whimsical, weathered murals decorating the outside make it appear like the very trippiest of hippie coffeeshops. But inside, it's a (fairly) serious restaurant with a bar and several different stages.

Due to my tardiness in booking this tour, the only slot left for me at the Mercury was a 5:30 stagetime. Being not only early for a mealtime, but also a Tuesday, I knew going into it that I couldn't expect much in terms of audience. After a frustrating time setting up the PA - I finally had to combine various pieces of theirs and mine just to get a steady signal - I started off, with my crowd consisting of one lone pal and a bartender. After a few minutes, a few others drifted in, though they proceeded to arrange themselves around the large eating area and then talk loudly throughout the set. Some tunes got a bit of applause - the cover tunes, naturally, but also a couple of my newest tunes which was nice - but otherwise, there was a general indifference.

I let it get to me a little bit, and felt like my playing was suffering a bit. In the tunes that involve improvisation to a larger degree, things didn't seem to be going in any interesting direction, so I cut them short in favor of more familiar standbys.

Afterward, at least I was able to enjoy a nice meal of tempeh and greens, while another band started up on the second stage, which had a bit more of a central location in the space and may have granted more attention. I could play here again, but I doubt I'd return to this slot.

I spent the rest of the evening catching up with some old friends in Golden, which put a nice spin on the day. As always on tour, a desultory show never gets me down too much, especially if I have my people to hang with, and always there is the next date to look forward to. Onward.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009
House show, Provo, UT

Thursday, October 8, 2009
Library Coffeehouse, Meridian, ID

Tonight had the full recipe for failure. I decided to fill my gas tank just before the gig, to save time on tomorrow's long drive to Seattle, and when popping open the tank lid I broke my (fake) index nail clean in half, lengthwise. Not just painful, but crushing to lose my main picker just before a show. Then, I set up in the interesting, multi-room environment of the Library Coffeehouse (built in an old residence, with all original walls intact), amidst a few tables of patrons, who all cleared the room before I even started.

I patched up my nail as best as a could, then with literally nobody to listen, I began the two-hour slot in a bit of a funk. My first tune elicited no further attendance, no crowds rushing in from the other rooms, and it felt suddenly ridiculous to be standing up in front of nobody. I took a seat, and began playing whatever I felt like playing, improvising around until I settled into a tune. After a couple of numbers, I sensed there were some people watching, but I didn't look up or comment, I just kept on playing to my whims.

It began to dawn on me that I was really happy playing like this, and moreover, that I felt more attuned to what I was doing and was actually playing better than any other gig so far this tour, with the guitar comfortably close to fingers and eyes. After finishing one tune, I improvised around for a bit and kinda stumbled into "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", which I haven't played in a long time. With the guitar on my lap, I could more easily access the whole guitar, and I felt myself exploring new things, feeling in my own little world.

Instead of pausing between numbers, I just kept playing, trying this or that before easing into the next tune. The people who were gathered were listening quietly, not offering applause, which I actually liked as I was able to just focus on the music. I could tell that folks were drifting in and out, sitting down for a while, then moving off again, but it felt like I was creating a certain atmosphere which would have been disturbed by looking up or acknowledging the listeners.

I didn't pause for a break, enjoying the scene so much, and instead played straight through for two hours. When I finally put the guitar down and looked up, I saw the owner leaning in the doorway to the little space, indicating that the shop was now closed. He and the handful of people still watching broke into applause, and there were many nice words said.

I left with a certain feeling of elation. For the first time this tour, I was focused completely on the music, and didn't feel as I was trying to win over folks' sympathies. And directly because of this, I knew that I had played better than any show in a long, long time. Though I've come to prefer standing up to play - it's fun to move around with the music, and it feels more like *rocking* - if the music itself is going to be my priority, sitting down seems to be the way to go.

Friday, October 9, 2009
Mr. Spot's Chai House, Seattle, WA

I've heard that Seattle has the worst traffic of any U.S. city outside of LA, and what I've seen would support that theory. The interstate started slowing down some 40 miles to the east of town, and I never again hit cruising speeds.

This was only the second stop on tour where I didn't have a contact putting me up for the night, so I booked a room at a Motel 6. It's good to do this every once in while, despite the expense, because it means I don't have social activities to distract me I can catch up on the things that inevitably get pushed aside. I really needed to work on material for the wedding I'm playing next week, so I checked in and sat down to compose for a couple of hours, which was great.

I finished arrangements for several tunes, then ended up starting and then completing a brand-new piece. It's very rare for me to finish a piece in one sitting, and I was so tickled by this that I decided to try it out at the gig.

The venue was a classic no-frills coffeeshop, but with a small raised stage in the center of the room, a nice feature. After polishing off a decent tempeh Reuben sandwich (the only meat-based dish I still miss), I plugged in and, as with last night, sat down to do my set. There were a few handfuls of people in the shop, all clearly occupied with their laptops or conversations, so it would have felt a bit weird to stand anyway. I started out with the new tune, which was very fun to play, being so fresh.

Again, as with last night, I soon went off into my own world, playing continuously for two hours without really bothering to stop, though always conscious of when people were stopping to listen, or coming in off the street to watch for a bit. And again I felt like I was playing quite well, and that sitting down was helping with that. At the end, there was some surprisingly nice applause, and some nice comments. But I was happiest for feeling like I had created some good music to fill the space.

Saturday, October 10, 2009
Vinegar Factory, Vancouver, BC, CANADA

Tuesday, October 13, 2009
East End, Portland, OR

Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Cloud 9, Corvallis, OR

Thursday, October 15, 2009
John Natsoulas Center for the Arts, Davis, CA

Friday, October 16, 2009
Norcal Noisefest, Sacramento, CA

Saturday, October 17, 2009
8th Annual International Live Looping Festival, Santa Cruz, CA

Sunday, October 18, 2009
Beyond Baroque, Venice, CA

Saturday, October 24, 2009
private engagement, Marin, CA